


puppy love

by chisomo



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Minho is in denial, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Witchcraft, dance teacher!minho, dog!jisung, idk how to write fluff sorry, jisung is just SO CUTE, teensy bit of angst bc I'm a hoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-03-06 05:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18844747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chisomo/pseuds/chisomo
Summary: Minho is most definitely a cat person.But one stray puppy manages to change that.(alternatively, jisung fucks up a spell and gets a lot more than he bargained for. minho gets...a dog)





	1. NOT a dog person

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello it's ur fave angsty hoe (; I decided to try writing fluff for once, and this is the result!   
> I'll probly switch the POV'S every chapter? we'll see idk  
> but anyways thank you to @pbandjaemin for encouraging all of my fics, including this one <3
> 
> pls scream at me

Minho was having a horrible day.

Like—a late-to-work, spilled-coffee, everything-goes-wrong kind of day.

His boss cornered him after his early morning ballet class to convince him into staying overtime _again_. And then two of the high schoolers in his hip hop class had gotten into an honest-to-god _fight,_ which Minho had to break up—earning himself a few bruises. On top of that…he was pretty sure he’d fucked up his ankle a bit while teaching a third grader to plié.

Minho loved his job, but sometimes it fucking _sucked_ being a broke dance teacher in Seoul.

So it was fitting, really, that the moment he stepped out of the studio (at about ten p.m., since overtime was just that shitty) it started downpouring. Perfect.

Minho just sighed and tugged his jacket closer around himself before starting the long walk home. Exhaustion wound tightly around his limbs as he dragged himself along and dreamed of his bed, a scalding bath, and Icy Hot balm for his ankle.

Lightning crackled across the skies in piercing bolts of light as the rain fell faster still—and that was right when Minho saw _it_.

At first he thought it was a piece of trash, honestly—a crumpled bag or someone’s old shirt shoved under the side of a parked car in front of his apartment building. But then he looked closer, and…it wasn’t a piece of trash.

_It_ was a dog—a dirt-smudged, scruffy little thing huddled behind the wheel of this beat-up Honda. Without thinking, Minho dropped to his knees on the wet ground. He bent down, trying to get a better glimpse—and that was when the dog looked up at him with huge, pitiful eyes.

Deep brown eyes glimmering with fear and pain, and _pleading—_

_Well, fuck._

 

Minho was _not_ a dog person. Like, at all.

He’d been a passionate cat person for his entire life and was currently a proud father of three cats: Soonie, Doongie, and Dori. Maybe it was because of how much he recognized himself in cats—aloof and introverted, but fiercely affectionate for the few he cared about.

Dogs, on the other hand—dogs were messy, and loud, and altogether annoying. Minho could do just fine without any dogs in his life, thank you very much.

So the expected thing for him to do—if he found himself kneeling in front of a stray dog, by chance—would be to get up and walk away. Maybe call the animal shelter in the morning, if he was feeling nice. And that had been exactly what Minho was about to do, except—

Except.

The dog’s _eyes,_ for fuck’s sake. It was like Minho couldn’t look away from them. Like this tiny, filthy, raggedy dog was making him feel _guilty._

Minho let out a long sigh, struggling with himself—and that was when the dog let out a faint whimper of pain. The pitiful sound made something in Minho’s chest shatter—just a bit. Just enough that it hurt.

_God fucking dammit. I guess we’re doing this, then._

“Hey, puppy…” Minho started in a soft voice, carefully shuffling closer to the dog. “Can you come out of there for me? Please, puppy?”

The dog gave him a wary glance, trying and failing to growl intimidatingly as Minho got closer. Ever so gently, Minho reached out one careful hand—and let it brush lightly against the dog’s side. The dog jolted in fear, but couldn’t move away.

Minho tried not to think about what injuries were stopping the little dog from running right now.

“Okay, buddy—I’m gonna pick you up now.” Minho grimaced, tugging his sleeves down as he reached under the car. “I know it’s scary, but please don’t bite me…we don’t need both of us going to the doctor.”

He slipped his hands around the dog’s frame, surprised by how tiny the little thing actually was. Its entire body practically fit into Minho’s two hands—maybe the dog was a puppy after all. It was hard to tell with all the dirt and rain.

“Let me just—just get you out of there, that’s it…you’re doing so well…” Minho murmured comfortingly to the dog as he carefully lifted it out from under the car and into his arms. Once secure, the dog burrowed into Minho’s chest without hesitation as his entire frame trembled in the cold.

Minho felt something slick against his hands, and—somehow, he knew it wasn’t just rainwater. Nestling the dog closer to his chest, Minho raised his hand to see streaks of dark blood painting his skin. He looked down at the dog sadly.

“Oh, puppy…” he said softly, feeling that something in his chest shatter just a bit more. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you fixed up.” And with that, Minho rose to his feet—careful not to jostle the tiny creature in his arms—and made his way into the apartment building.

One suspicious look from the receptionist and a too-long elevator ride later, Minho was finally home. Kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his bag—all with the dog still in his arms—he made his way further into the small apartment with caution, not knowing how the dog would react if it saw one of his cats.

“Soonie…? Doongie, Dori? Daddy’s home…” Minho called out softly. The patter of little feet could be heard as Dori came running, followed closely by Soonie. Doongie strolled out of the bedroom a moment later, pretending indifference.

Minho smiled widely at his babies, but the smile quickly fell as the dog in his arms gave a little jolt at the sight of the cats.

“You better not chase my babies,” he said sternly, and the dog whimpered a little in response—no doubt from the firm sound of Minho’s tone. Hoping that would be enough for now, Minho carried the dog into the bathroom—it was time to get all that dirt off.

“Don’t give me that face…you have to take a bath, alright? I need to clean your wound,” Minho said to the dog’s obvious pout. He tried putting it in the bathtub—but the little thing just clung to him with a whimper.

“Oh, puppy—it’s gonna be okay, I promise. Tomorrow morning you can go to a shelter where a nice family will adopt you…but you need to be clean first.” And with that argument made, Minho gently placed the tiny, shivering dog into his bathtub and turned on the hot water.

He was surprised at how pliant the little puppy was—simply standing there and whimpering occasionally as Minho carefully washed the dirt and blood from its fur. He found the wound about halfway through—a long scratch in the poor dog’s hind leg that didn’t look like it required more than antiseptic and rest.

 Carefully toweling the dog’s fur dry, Minho gave it an appraising look and found himself melting a little at the sight. Which was surprising, because—well, he usually didn’t find dogs to be that cute. But it was hard _not_ to melt at this puppy.

Now that it was clean, the dog’s fur shone caramel-soft in the bright light of the bathroom. Huge brown eyes sparkled at Minho when he patted the floppy, too-big ears, and—yeah. Pretty fucking cute.

“You’re kind of adorable, you know that?” Minho said to the puppy solemnly. In response, the dog bounded forward and promptly licked him right on the nose.

“Hey!” Minho fell back, hand flying to his nose in shock. That was another thing he had forgotten about dogs—they licked _everything._ He shook his head in disgust before giving the dog a stern look.

“That was so gross—don’t lick me, okay?”

The puppy just wagged his tail, panting at Minho happily.

Minho sighed. “Whatever. You stay here, okay? Don’t make a mess.”

He wasn’t sure why he was talking like he expected this dog to understand, but—well, he talked to his cats all the time…and somehow, it felt like the little puppy understood him. Somehow.

He stood up to leave, but stopped at the sound of a whimper from the floor. Turning back around, he found the puppy staring at him dolefully. “I’m just going to make some food, puppy. I don’t want you chasing my cats, so you gotta stay here…but I promise I’ll be back.”

The dog continued to pout, but Minho had to be strong—he couldn’t fall victim to the cursed puppy-dog eyes two times in one night. Besides, the dog looked half-starved, so food was a definite priority.

Minho tried to remember all that as he closed the door behind him, listening to the muffled whimpers for a moment with his heart clenching.

He’d only just finished microwaving some leftover rice and chicken—when he heard a particularly loud yip. Frowning, Minho poked his head into the living room—and gaped at the scene before him. The puppy had somehow managed to get out of the bathroom and was now allowing himself to be licked all over his muzzle by Soonie.

_Soonie,_ who hissed at every dog she saw and took a full month to warm up to Dori.

Doongie and Dori watched the scene calmly from their respective lounging spots, and Minho could do nothing but gape at them all for a full minute. Not wanting to scare what looked like a newfound friendship, he merely backed away and returned to his cooking—this time with a stupid little grin on his face that he couldn’t seem to shake off.

There was something about this puppy. Minho couldn’t help but soften every time he even looked at the little thing—but. He was a cat person, and that’s how things would remain.

“Puppy! Food time,” Minho called at last, carrying two plates of rice and chicken to the table before turning to see the dog already right behind him. “You could smell the food, huh?”

He was about to set a plate on the floor, when—the dog hopped right up onto one of the chairs and rested his paws on the tabletop in expectation. Minho tilted his head.

“You’re a weird puppy, that’s for sure. But okay—be all high-class if you want.” He set the dog’s plate in front of him at the table and the two ate just like that—human and puppy, sitting together at Minho’s cracked folding table.

 

 

Minho was fucking exhausted. Like—he’d already been pretty damn exhausted, but then he’d gone and picked up a whole stray dog to bathe and feed. Which…he found himself not really regretting that last part, for some reason.

Strange.

But the point was—exhausted. Minho. So he should’ve been able to sleep as soon as he fell into bed, but…now that he was here, he just couldn’t fall asleep. He had no idea why.

Okay, he definitely knew why.

Minho couldn’t stop fucking _worrying_ about the damn stray dog that he’d left curled up in his living room. The puppy had given him such a betrayed, hurt look when Minho told him to sleep on the couch. And—what if the wound on its leg hurt? What if it got cold? What if—

_Aish, seriously. Lee Minho, you’re an idiot._

And with that established, Minho rolled out of bed.

As soon as he tiptoed into the living room, he saw the puppy’s head shoot up. A tiny whimper was all it took for Minho to stride across the room and lift the tiny furball into his arms.

“You and your goddamn puppy dog eyes,” was all he grumbled, but he pulled the dog closer to his chest and walked back to his room all the same. Once in bed, the puppy was more than happy to wiggle his little body right into the crook of Minho’s shoulder—wet nose snuffling into his neck.

Minho stared down at the ball of caramel fluff tucked against him.

_There’s no way you could live here—not with a broke dance teacher who’s never home._

_You deserve an adoring family with cute kids, and a big backyard._

He let one finger trail lightly down the dog’s too-visible spine.

_You’re going to a shelter tomorrow—you have to._

_You have to._

It took Minho a long time to fall asleep that night.

 

The next morning was…difficult, to say the least.

Getting ready was no problem, actually. The little puppy woke up Minho two minutes before his alarm with little licks all over his face—but Minho couldn’t even try to be mad about it. It was probably illegal to be that soft that early in the morning, but he couldn’t fucking _help_ it.

The dog insisted on following him throughout his entire morning routine (even staring at him when he got out of the shower, which—that was kind of weird) and happily ate his eggs right next to Minho at the table.

It wasn’t even hard to get out the door, with the puppy happily leaping up into Minho’s arms when he beckoned. Once outside, the dog visibly grew nervous—Minho could feel him trembling, just a bit. And he jerked at loud noises, and—it made Minho’s chest ache, all of it.

More than that, Minho couldn’t help but admit that he had been dreading this since he woke up.

But—

_You deserve so much more than me._

He had to do this, for the little puppy’s sake.

The real difficulty, of course, began when Minho rounded the corner and the animal shelter came into view down the street. He didn’t know how the dog suddenly knew where they were going, but—

Once the shelter came into view, it all went to shit.

_It_ being the plan.

The puppy started whining and whimpering—louder than Minho had ever heard him, and wriggled around so much that Minho almost dropped him.

“Woah, pup—it’s okay, I’m gonna make sure they find you a good home,” he tried to make his tone low and soothing, which had worked last night—but apparently not anymore. The puppy kept wriggling around and kicking out his legs, but Minho held on…until the dog _bit him._

The bite didn’t hurt—the tiny teeth couldn’t even break his skin, not that the dog was trying. But Minho dropped him anyway out of pure shock, and the dog landed on the concrete with a loud whimper. Minho backed away with wide eyes—this sweet little puppy just _bit him._

He should’ve known—this was precisely why he was a cat person.

But that didn’t mean Minho didn’t feel like absolute _shit_ as he started to walk away from the puppy—and towards the shelter. He would just report the dog to the shelter, and they would take him in, and find him a good family, and---

_You deserve a good family, you deserve love from someone who has more than enough to give—_

The dog was letting out tiny, pained whimpers as he watched Minho go—they sounded far worse than the ones last night, and each one cracked the bones of Minho’s heart just a little bit more. The dog hadn’t even moved from where Minho had dropped him on the ground, just—laying there.

Just laying there and begging for Minho to come back.

It was absolutely heart-wrenching.

_You deserve more than me,_ Minho wanted to yell. _I can’t make you happy, pup._

He reached the door of the animal shelter, and rested his hand on the doorknob. The puppy watched him, those _eyes_ locking him in place.

_You deserve—_

Minho turned the knob.

_You deserve so much love—_

He stepped away from the door, hand falling to his side.

_God fucking dammit._

“Fucking fine, you goddamn puppy!” he yelled. “You’re gonna regret this, you know!”

And with that, he strode back over to the puppy and promptly dropped to his knees. The dog launched its tiny body at him, and he let the little nose press deep into his neck as he wrapped his arms tighter around the wriggling ball of fur.

“I’m still a cat person, you know,” Minho said sternly.

The dog just licked his neck.

 

 

 


	2. not a person..at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf is this chapter title lmao okay
> 
> ANYWAYS WOW look at that! i actually updated this fic!! who knew that would actually happen? not me!
> 
> i decided to do this one in jisung's pov bc i wanted to slide his backstory in there...sorry for the slightly emo parts i promise there is lots of fluff too...hope y'all enjoy! if you have an idea for a lil tidbit to include in the upcoming chapters, feel free to comment! i don't have a super set plan for this story so i'm open to suggestions (:

Jisung was pretty sure this topped the list of his major fuck-ups.

Actually, this required a whole new list: terrible, humiliating, _colossal_ fuck-ups. Because “major” didn’t even begin to describe Jisung’s current situation—drenched and shivering madly, huddled under a beat-up car in a part of Seoul that he didn’t even know the name of.

Oh, right—and he was a _dog._

He closed his eyes in shame, tucking his hands—no, _paws_ —tighter under his body in an effort to preserve a little warmth. The movement jostled his right hind leg, and he let out an involuntary whimper at the sting. He knew he had a wound there—a souvenir from his earlier run-in with some neighborhood strays. 

He hadn’t meant to wander into their territory—he was just so _hungry._ Finding food when you were a stray dog was surprisingly difficult...not to mention he hated the feeling of eating straight off the ground. It made him feel—hopeless, really. Like he was doomed to stay a dog forever.

And at this point, that possibility was starting to feel more and more like a reality. 

He wished desperately that he had never opened that spellbook, wished that he had never cast that charm, wished that he had never even moved to Seoul in the first place. If he hadn’t done any of those things, then Jisung wouldn’t have had to live as a _dog_ for the past couple months.

He had just been so...lonely.

Leaving behind everything he knew to move to Seoul had seemed like a good idea at the beginning. Jisung wanted to open a charms shop and sell his creations to a city that might actually accept him, instead of shun him like his hometown. 

_Bastard witch_ — e _mbarrassment of the family_ — _demonic freak!_

But as it turns out, Seoul can be a cold, cruel place when you don’t know a single soul. Its twisting streets seemed to warn him away instead of beckon him in. And so maybe Jisung wasn’t that good at being on his own. Maybe he needed companionship...more than anything else in the world.

He should’ve known better than to go searching for it in a spell book, though.

Because what had seemed like a relatively simple friendship charm was...not simple at all. One wrong pinch of crushed rose thorns—and here he was. Hopelessly lost, hungry, and still a dog...two months after the spell went wrong. 

So, yeah—terrible, humiliating, _colossal_ fuck-up.

 

Jisung sighed and curled up a little closer, cringing at how soaked his fur was. And without really meaning to, he started whimpering as he tried in vain to doze off. He knew he sounded absolutely pitiful, but he couldn’t help the involuntary sounds coming from his throat. Calling out to someone for help...even though he knew nobody was listening.

Except—then somebody was.

A pair of wide, glimmering eyes were suddenly peering right at him, and then soft words were being spoken to him, and gentle hands lifted his shivering body out from underneath the car, and he was nestled against a warm, strong chest, and—

_“Oh, puppy_ ... _don’t worry, I’ll get you fixed up.”_

—and Jisung felt _safe,_ for the first time in two months. For the first time in a long time, really. 

Even though it didn’t make sense, even though he didn’t know this person at all, even though he could very well be carried off to a shelter right this minute—none of it seemed to matter under the weight of his exhaustion. So Jisung let himself nuzzle into the cinnamon-scented warmth of this person’s chest, and he let himself pretend for a moment that everything would be alright.

And for the rest of that night, he discovered Minho.

_Minho,_ who talked to his cats in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice, and wasn’t very good at cooking, and carried exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. 

_Minho,_ who talked to Jisung like he was a real person instead of a dirty little dog, and let him eat off the table, and watched him thoughtfully when he thought Jisung was distracted. 

_Minho,_ who moved with a natural grace, and whose eyes glittered like fairy lights, and whose skin glowed golden-brown—just like its cinnamon scent. 

_Minho,_ who was devastatingly beautiful, and even worse — _kind._

It all made Jisung want to die a little bit. And even more, it worsened the ache inside him—the desperate desire to become human again. He wished so badly that he could have met Minho two months ago, and shaken that gentle hand with one of his own, and said something stupid to make Minho laugh.

But as it was, all he could do was give Minho a lick on the nose just to watch the man’s face scrunch up in horror (which was hilarious). That night was the first time Jisung was happy for his dog form—because being a cute puppy softened Minho’s eyes every time. And...it got Jisung what he wanted.

Like, for example, sleeping curled up in the curve of Minho’s neck and breathing in cinnamon all night. Or...watching Minho after he got out of the shower the next morning, droplets of water running down the golden expanse of the man’s chest and disappearing into the white towel wrapped around his waist.

Okay, so maybe Jisung felt a little bad about the last one. But in his defense, he was really just a dog to Minho—which made it less creepy. Probably.

It was because of all this—the constant gentleness in Minho’s touch, the kindness in his eyes, the way he called Jisung “little puppy”—that Jisung didn’t protest when Minho insisted on picking him up and taking him outside. He was all too happy to be carried in Minho’s coat, as scared as he still was of the city.

Jisung knew better than anyone how dark of a place Seoul was for unwanted animals that weren’t very good at defending themselves, but he _trusted_ this man—after just one night. Jisung was a trusting person by nature...but the last two months had turned him wary and hesitant. Even still, Minho seemed to bring out the old, carefree Jisung with ease. 

And it didn’t hurt that Jisung desperately wanted to believe that he was finally safe. 

But that was before he saw the shelter.

He had known this was coming, deep down. Minho had mentioned it several times last night, but Jisung had been hoping that the man would forget about it...at least for a few days. He started wriggling madly to show his distress, but Minho only held on tighter and tried to comfort him in a hushed tone.

_“I’ll make sure they find you a good home.”_

Minho didn’t want him. 

_Minho didn’t want him._

Jisung wanted to cry. It had been stupid of him, anyways—no one had ever wanted him all his life, so why should turning himself into a puppy change anything? Minho didn’t want or need the burden of a dumb little dog that he’d found under a car. 

Just like no one would come to adopt him at this overcrowded, underfunded city shelter. 

_Embarrassment of the family_ —

_You will always be alone_ —

Jisung wriggled harder, trying in vain to free himself from Minho’s grasp—even as his little heart cried out. If he let Minho take him to this shelter, he knew he would be put down just like all the other thousands of strays. And maybe his life wasn’t going so hot, but he still wanted to _live._

So he bit Minho.

It was the last thing Jisung wanted to do, but he couldn’t think of anything else through his blind panic. Minho dropped him at once, and the stark betrayal in his eyes as he looked down at Jisung was heart-breaking. He started walking away—towards the shelter—and Jisung couldn’t even bring himself to run.

_Unwantedunwantedunwanted_ —

So he lay there, and he thought about black nights and unfamiliar streets and the bitter taste of loneliness—and he cried. Jisung cried as best as a puppy could, with little whimpers that echoed in the deserted street. He was just so _tired_ of trying to live without getting anywhere.

So tired of trying to pretend like he was worth something. 

So tired—

And then Minho came back. For _Jisung._

The man dropped to his knees with an apology gleaming in his eyes, and Jisung didn’t even think before launching himself at Minho. Strong arms encircled his shaking body as he pressed himself as close as possible to the man’s body, and—

And Jisung was _safe_.

  


Minho took Jisung home with him that day, and there was never another mention of the shelter after that. Instead, Minho learned how to fit Jisung into his life, and Jisung—Jisung learned how to not chase the cats.

To be fair, it wasn’t his fault—they were always _teasing_ him.

Dori, being a kitten, was always trying to annoy Jisung by batting at his ears or pouncing on his stomach. He usually rolled over and let her—she was just a little kitten after all, and wanted someone to play with. But when her claws started sinking a little too deeply into his fur—well, what was he supposed to do other than chase her away?

Soonie liked to lick Jisung all over his snout, before swishing her tail in his face and making him sneeze. She _tried_ to get him to chase her—always wiggling around in front of him and then dancing away when he tried to get closer to play.

Doongie was the oldest and therefore the calmest, preferring to peer at Jisung from high places where he couldn’t reach her. Every now and then, though, he would wake up from a nap to find her curled up next to him, purring softly.

When Minho had found them snuggled up like that one day, he squeaked in delight and immediately took a million pictures. Jisung couldn’t help but preen a little at the exclamations of, “oh my _god,_ you are the cutest puppy to ever exist!”

But, anyways—chasing the cats. Bad.

Minho was very protective of the cats, and he always scolded Jisung when he caught him chasing them. But Jisung cowered and gave Minho his best puppy-dog eyes, and every time the man would relent and cuddle the puppy to his chest afterwards.

Even still, Jisung was admittedly very jealous of the cats. Which—here he was, a full-grown witch-turned-dog, with ambitions and dreams and thoughts—and he was exceedingly jealous of three cats. 

It was just...he couldn’t _help_ it.

Minho _loved_ his cats, and called them his babies, and — and — each of them had _names._ Even after living with the man for a week, Jisung was still being called “pup” and “puppy.” He knew it was stupid (okay, _really_ stupid), but he couldn’t help sulking over it periodically. 

Did Minho even consider Jisung _his_ dog?

He hadn’t bought him a collar, either, just dog food that Jisung refused to eat and a dog toy that Jisung only played with when Minho was watching (purely because he was being gracious, and not at all because he loved the way Minho laughed at his antics and called him adorable).

Jisung sometimes marveled at what his life had come to—being jealous of three cats and wishing his owner would buy him a collar.

In fact, he was so fucking happy being Minho’s dog—hearing the music of the man’s laughter and greeting him with a bark when he got home from work and playing with the stupid dog toy—that he almost forgot about wanting to be a human again.

In all fairness, being human hadn’t been that great for Jisung. And if he could live this way—making a beautiful, kind man smile—maybe it was worth more than his faded excuse for an existence before.

He hadn’t made anyone happy as a human. 

But the old desire still came back sometimes, when Minho came back smelling like another human or smiled at messages on his phone for too long without paying attention to Jisung. And even more, when he came from work with bags under his eyes and exhaustion hanging heavy from every limb.

That was when Jisung ached for arms to hug Minho with, for words to stitch his seams back together, for lips to press against Minho’s cheek. To be more than just Minho’s dog.

But all he could do was wriggle his way into Minho’s arms and lick him on the nose, just to see a smile stretch its way across Minho’s face. And in that moment, it was enough to make Minho happy.

Maybe even more than enough.


	3. rising storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : wow I rly struggled getting this one out…where did all my free time go, y’all? personal complaints aside, this chapter was fun to write! a few of the other members make a cameo (:
> 
> I also just want to make it clear that I'm a PASSIONATE cat person, but jisung is the exception here I guess

“You seem…happier, Minho-ah.”

Minho scoffed, leaning back in his chair so he could give Chan an eye roll from the best angle possible. The puppy, who was sitting upright in Minho’s lap and staring at Chan with wide eyes, nearly toppled off at the sudden movement. Minho steadied the dog with a gentle hand before meeting his friend’s gaze.

Fuck, the _look_ was back.

Chan took a long sip of his tea, still giving Minho that look he hated—the _Chan_ look, as their friend group had dubbed it. The look that said: _I know you better than you know yourself, and I can prove it._

Minho knew himself just fine, thank you very much.

“C’mon, you totally do,” Chan continued with a dimpled grin. “You even smiled at me when I came in the door! Normally I get a glare at most.”

Minho huffed in pretend annoyance. “I smiled because I thought you were the pizza delivery man. Now, why are we analyzing my emotional state again?”

Chan sighed in exasperation. “Because you _are_ happier, and I think we both know why.”

He looked pointedly at Minho’s lap, and Minho looked down as well—only to see a fluffy ball of caramel looking up at him with warm, intelligent eyes. Minho felt an embarrassingly fond smile spread across with face without warning.

Chan cleared his throat, and Minho immediately wiped the smile off his face to look up at Chan blankly. “Are you suggesting that my emotional stability depends on a dog?”

Chan nodded, smirking with those stupid dimples of his.

“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” Minho responded breezily, and deposited said dog on the floor so he could get up and refill their mugs—more for something to do than anything else. That’s how Minho was when he got nervous or didn’t want to deal with something—he needed to _move._

Most of the time, that translated into dancing. But when that wasn’t an option, he fidgeted with his clothes or tapped his feet or…made more tea.

“It’s perfectly normal,” Chan called after him. “Lots of people have emotional therapy dogs, you know.”

Minho refilled the kettle with a little more force than necessary. “Well, that’s great for them. But I don’t need any emotional therapy. I was doing just fine before, and I’m doing just fine now.”

He ignored the way his fingers shook a little around the handle of the kettle.

Chan came up behind him, teasing manner gone in the wake of a gentle hand coming up to curl around Minho’s elbow. “You know you weren’t, Minho-ah. We all just kept watching you get more and more exhausted…and we never saw you anymore. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes, you know?”

Minho couldn’t bring himself to respond, gripping the kettle until his knuckles turned white. Weeks of unspoken words curled around the two men like smoke.

Chan finally backed away with a sigh, knowing how much Minho hated talking about his own emotions—how much he hated admitting any weakness.  

“Well, it doesn’t matter now…I’m just glad to see you happy,” Chan said brightly as he knelt down to scratch the puppy’s ears. The puppy wagged his tail in response, but his eyes were fixed on Minho’s unmoving back.

“He’ll be okay, pup,” Chan whispered just quiet enough that Minho couldn’t hear. “Thank you.”

The dog turned to look at the blond, but the man just stood up and turned towards Minho. “Anyways, I think I’d better be going. Woojin will kill me if I’m not back in time with his favorite chicken for dinner.”

Minho turned to give Chan a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s about time you get out of my apartment. Tell Woojin I said hey, alright? And that his husband is a nosy bastard, as usual.”

Chan smiled cheekily, shrugging on his coat and shoes. “I’ll have you know that being a nosy bastard is my best character trait.”

And with that, he gave Minho a quick hug and was about to open the door—when he suddenly turned back.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Chan asked, eyes suddenly serious.

In response, Minho picked up the puppy and gently waved its front paw back and forth as he smirked at Chan. “What was that you were saying about leaving?”

Chan groaned in exasperation, but threw a quick smile over his shoulder anyways as he closed the door behind him. The sudden silence of the apartment descended upon Minho, and he nestled the puppy closer to him. There was a sudden yip in his ear, and Minho pulled away with a sigh to give his dog a solemn look.

“You are absolutely right—it _is_ the perfect time to eat tteokbokki.”

 

Not that he ever admitted it to himself, but Minho _was_ happier.

It was something about the way the puppy absolutely vibrated with excitement when Minho got home from work, the entirety of his tiny body shaking as he yipped at Minho. Something about the way he was unceasingly playful, always wriggling around and trying to get Minho to wrestle with him on the floor.

Something about the way Minho’s chest warmed when he found the puppy curled up next to Doongie, caramel fur mixing with the cat’s calico colors.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t been happy before, with his three adorable cats and his annoying but caring friends and his _dream job_ of teaching dance classes in Seoul. But…it had also been hard. _Really_ hard. Longer shifts at the studio left him exhausted, and his friends wouldn’t stop looking at him with worried eyes, and—

They didn’t understand, not really. The desperate need to _prove himself_ that haunted Minho’s every move. He had to be successful, had to support himself through dance and dreams and luck. If not for himself, then for his family—for the disappointment in his appa’s eyes when Minho left home for the first time to _dance._

_It was really fucking hard._

But anyways—he had been fine. Totally fine. He was just… _more_ fine with the puppy. At most. The real point of matter was that he was still a cat person, no matter what.

That was what Minho told himself.

And then Changbin and Felix showed up.

 

Minho started taking the puppy on long walks whenever he got the chance, bundling up against the Seoul winter in an old coat that Woojin had outgrown and passed down to him. The puppy seemed to like the walks, panting happily up at Minho and whining to be carried when he got too tired (which was quite often, actually). And Minho liked the walks, too—they cleared his head.

Arriving home windblown and chilled after one of these walks, Minho stepped into his apartment—only to be immediately greeted by a shout of, “Hyung!”

Still holding the puppy in his arms, Minho peered into the living room to see Felix and Changbin making themselves comfortable on _his_ couch in _his_ apartment. The dark-haired elder waved with one arm, the other thrown casually across Felix’s shoulders.

The blond turned to grin brightly at Minho. “Hyung, we heard you got a puppy—so we had to see for ourselves.”

Minho shrugged off his coat, letting the puppy squirm out of his arms and run over to inspect Felix and Changbin. The dog peered at them with wide eyes, and Felix immediately picked up the little furball with a coo. Minho walked over to stand in front of the couch, one eyebrow raised.

“The infamous cat dad gets a puppy…what did your babies think?” Changbin asked with a smirk.

Minho rolled his eyes. “I found him under a car during a storm, and he was hurt. What would you have done—leave him there?”

Changbin shrugged, but Felix broke in before he could respond. “Binnie would take the poor thing in, of course—and so would I! I’m really happy you got a puppy, hyung—we were just surprised, is all.”

Minho sighed and gave the younger a small smile. Bright, sweet Felix—ever the peacemaker.

Resigned to the couple staying in his apartment for the time being, Minho walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on. If he had to suffer through their company, he could at least have some tea. He listened to Felix’s exclamations of, “oh my god, he is so _so_ cute! Binnie, look at his little _face!”_ with a smirk as the water boiled, and walked back to the couch with three steaming mugs.

“What’s his name?” Felix asked as Minho sat down in a chair across from them, his attention focused on not spilling his tea.

Minho looked up with a frown. “His…name?”

Changbin raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even named your dog?”

Minho shrugged, buying himself time by taking a long sip of the hot tea. “I just call him puppy, I guess.”

In reality, he had spent hours researching “dog names” on the Internet, only to end in frustration each time. Nothing ever seemed to fit the puppy. But of course, he would never admit that to Changbin and Felix—who would tease him endlessly for being soft, no doubt.

Felix gasped in shock, smushing the puppy against his chest in a well-intentioned but probably uncomfortable effort to comfort the little dog. “That’s horrible! He’s your _dog—_ he needs a name!”

Wincing at how the puppy was getting squished, Minho held out his hands with a huff. Felix handed over the puppy with sheepish eyes, and both him and Changbin watched as Minho gently cradled the tiny, furry body in his large hands.

“Binnie,” Felix whispered loudly. “I think Minho-hyung’s gone _soft.”_

Changbin chuckled, drawing the blond closer to him unconsciously with a hand on Felix’s hip. “I think you may be right, Lix,” he whispered back, equally as loudly.

Minho rolled his eyes at the couple, but couldn’t bring himself to deny anything out loud.

“Seriously, though…what happened to being a cat person?” Changbin asked.

“I still am a cat person,” Minho answered simply, only to look down at the sound of the puppy whimpering up at him. He grinned—it was like this puppy understood exactly what he said sometimes. Minho had almost grown used to it, talking out loud to the puppy as he puttered around the apartment and pretending the puppy answered him.

“You’re the exception, pup,” Minho said, tenderness leaking into his voice before he could help it. The puppy wriggled happily in response, and Minho brushed his thumb down its spine affectionately before looking back up at Changbin and Felix.

They were both staring at him like they’d just seen a ghost.

“Holy shit,” Changbin said at last. “Lix, you were right—he’s so far gone. And for a _stray dog.”_

“He’s not a stray,” Minho retorted. “He’s mine.”

_He’s mine._

Minho realized with a jolt that this was the first time he’d actually called the puppy his own out loud. But what did it matter, when he’d thought it all along? This puppy was his—this hopelessly adorable, silly, excitable ball of caramel fur was _his_.

The rest of the evening went as it usually did when Changbin and Felix were over. The blond carried the conversation, with Changbin interjecting comments constantly that almost always made Felix laugh. Minho mostly listened, but he was never bored—no matter how much he complained, these were his friends…and he cared about them.

As grossly soft as that was. Minho seemed to be doing that a lot, lately—being grossly soft, that is.

This evening, however, came with the added entertainment of Felix’s immediate infatuation with the puppy. He was constantly petting its fur, scratching its ears, or cooing at it in some way. He even got down on the floor with the puppy, playing tug of war with the one dog toy that Minho had managed to get.

Minho was busy laughing at how ridiculous Felix looked on the floor—when he caught sight of Changbin’s face. The black-haired boy’s gaze was locked on Felix as the blond giggled, dark eyes so completely filled with love that Minho had to look away.

Their love was so pure that it made Minho’s chest ache, sometimes.

Eventually, Felix started yawning so widely that Changbin just pulled the other boy towards the door, bundling him up in a coat in what looked like a well-practiced process. Minho watched as the couple fixed hats and scarves around each other, and turned to Changbin when Felix bent down to say a last goodbye to the puppy.

“So…what are you waiting for?” he asked quietly.

Changbin looked at him in confusion, and Minho sighed. “Engagement, you idiot. You two have been together for ages—what’s the holdup?”

“Shut the hell up,” Changbin hissed, the tips of his ears turning bright red as he glanced down to make sure Felix was still distracted.

Minho grinned cheekily. “Just asking,” he sang, before pulling Felix up forcibly to give the younger a hug. “Don’t even think of stealing my puppy, Lix-ah,” he said with mock-seriousness.

Felix’s laughter echoed in the hallway as the door swung shut.

Minho turned to see the puppy staring up at him, tail wagging. All of a sudden, something in Minho’s chest shattered—and he gathered the puppy up in his arms tightly, sinking down to sit on the floor afterwards.

The puppy wriggled a little, wet nose pressing against Minho’s neck as the man took a long, shuddery breath. “It’s so hard to watch them, sometimes,” Minho whispered into caramel fur, the secret words feeling fragile—like carefully spun glass.

“Their happiness together is so… _raw_. So complete,” he continued. The puppy had stilled now, and Minho knew without a doubt that the dog—his dog—was listening intently. “It _hurts_ to watch them, puppy. It _hurts.”_

Minho drew in another shuddering breath—and all of a sudden, his throat was too tight and his head was pounding and there were tears trickling slowly into the puppy’s fur. “Because—because it reminds me of how…how much _emptier_ my life is.”

The puppy whined once—and seemed to wriggle his way even closer to Minho’s body, if that was possible. Minho laughed a little, eyes still wet, and pulled the puppy away to look into its warm brown eyes.

“Thank you, puppy,” he said with a teary smile. “I didn’t know how much I needed you until I found you.”

Minho drew a featherlight touch over the puppy’s head with his thumb. “You can’t ever leave me, okay? I need you too much now.”

In response, the puppy leaped forward and licked Minho’s nose until the man chuckled outright, the music of his laughter echoing throughout the empty apartment.

_I need you too much now._

_I need you—_


	4. fragile secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got way more angsty that I planned...oops? (and peep the new tags hehe) also this fic has such a tiny following compared to my other fic and for some reason I kinda like that? I feel like we’re all just being very soft and fluffy together in this cute lil fic world…idk I also just wanted to ramble but whoever reads these dumb notes should just read the update now lol

Minho was laughing.

Soft blue skies blurred behind him, the sun pressing soft kisses onto golden cheekbones as his eyes crinkled adorably and his white teeth gleamed and—

He was hopelessly beautiful.

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, unable to look away for even a second. Somehow he knew that Minho was laughing because of him—that _Jisung_ had managed to make Minho laugh. This knowledge brought a kind of warm happiness with it, one that fluttered about in his chest before nestling deep within his ribcage.

Minho focused his gaze on Jisung, pinning the younger in place as a quicksilver smile flashed across his lips. He reached out a hand, and Jisung found himself grasping it without a second thought. He let himself be pulled up—but stumbled and fell into Minho as the sky blurred again.

Strong, sure arms caught his body, and Jisung let himself be held with gentle hands as he tipped his head up to meet Minho’s gaze. Glittering eyes looked back at him, the sun blinding Jisung to everything but Minho’s face… _so close to his._

Minho’s lips started moving, forming words that Jisung couldn’t seem to hear no matter how hard he strained his ears. He tried to tell Minho that it wasn’t working, that he couldn’t hear him…but Minho kept trying.

Soft blue skies blurring—the sun pressing kisses into their skin—Minho’s lips moving—

“ _Jisung!_ ”

 

Jisung opened his eyes.

Sunlight dripped down cream walls and pooled across white bedsheets. A houseplant gently waved its leaves at him from the corner.

Minho slept next to him, half-twisted in the sheets and honey skin on display in the morning sun.

Jisung looked down, half-expecting to see hands in place of paws, and tanned skin in place of caramel fur. Of course, he was proven wrong—he was still just a puppy, no matter how realistic that dream had felt. No matter how much he wished for it to be different.

But as Minho rolled over and slowly blinked awake, giving Jisung a sleep-soft smile when he saw the puppy…well, Jisung couldn’t really complain. Because waking up next to Minho was pretty damn perfect, and there was no way he would be here otherwise.

Minho yawned, sitting up after a moment and stretching—which gave Jisung a front-row view of Minho’s muscles shifting and pulling taut under his smooth skin.

The sight was extremely difficult to handle, but Jisung prided himself in remaining calm. Instead, he just unrolled his furry body from the ball he had curled up into and padded over to greet Minho in the only way he could—with a yip and a nudge of his nose to Minho’s hand.

The man twisted to gather Jisung into his arms, nestling against the warm fur and sighing.

“Are you ready for today, puppy?”

Jisung licked his nose in response, wagging his tail a bit when Minho giggled at him. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll love you.”

_What the fuck did that mean?_

Before Jisung could wonder who “they” were, he was set back onto the sheets where he could watch as Minho slid off the bed and padded into the bathroom. A minute later, the sound of water filled the apartment as the shower turned on. Jisung rested his nose on his paws with a huff.

Minho never let the puppy watch him take showers anymore—it was tragic, really. Almost like he’d caught on that Jisung liked it so much…which would be worrying if Jisung didn’t know for a fact that there was no way Minho would ever figure it out.

Because, honestly—who expects their puppy to be a witch in dog form?

(The answer is absolutely nobody.)

So Jisung was safe—in this, at least.

 

Jisung really didn’t know where they were going.

Usually Minho told him these things, chatting out loud to the puppy in the apartment. Usually he asked Jisung very seriously if he’d like to walk to this park or that one, and waited for a yip in response.

It was normal for Minho to bundle up in Woojin’s old coat and tuck Jisung underneath the collar so that the puppy wouldn’t get too cold but could still see where they were going. It _wasn’t_ normal for Jisung to not know where they were going in the first place.

So maybe he was a tiny bit worried.

It’s not that he thought Minho would take him to a shelter—Jisung trusted this human enough by now to know that Minho would never do that to him willingly.

But…still.

A blast of icy wind cut across his face without warning, and Jisung burrowed into Minho’s neck with a whimper. The man smoothed a reassuring hand down his spine through the coat, and wrapped Jisung up tighter.

“Sorry, pup…we’re almost there,” he said apologetically. “Probably should’ve taken the bus, but I wasn’t sure they’d let me on with you.”

Jisung just rubbed his cold nose into Minho’s skin in response, earning himself a winded chuckle.

By the time Minho was stepping up to an apartment door and ringing the doorbell, Jisung couldn’t care less where they were—as long as it was someplace with heating.

The door opened to reveal…perhaps the most beautiful man Jisung had ever seen.

(Not counting Minho, of course.)

Silky black hair was brushed aside with one hand to reveal dark eyes glinting with humor, a delicate mole placed atop one cheek. Plush, petal-pink lips broke into a delighted smile as the man took in Minho. Jisung was sure his cheeks would be bright crimson…if he wasn’t covered in fur, of course.

And the guy was really fucking tall, too.

Which was honestly just annoying, because—how much perfection did one person need? If he didn’t have a horrible personality to make up for his looks, then Jisung was going to need to have a long talk with God about distributing good genes far more equally.

He sometimes wondered what Minho would think of Jisung’s human features if he ever saw them—his tanned skin, his childishly puffy cheeks, his (below-average) height…Jisung usually stopped thinking about it pretty quickly.

“Minho-hyung!” the man cried out happily, bounding forward to tackle Minho in a hug—before he was blocked by a sharp arm to the chest.

“Don’t tackle me, Hyunjin,” Minho said, his words aiming for cutting but laced with undeniable warmth. “You’ll hurt the puppy.”

Hyunjin gasped, annoyingly beautiful eyes going wide as he took in the sight of Jisung peeking out at him for the first time. “Oh my _god,_ he’s adorable! Sorry, hyung—almost forgot you were bringing him to be honest.”

“Jinnie, how could you forget that Minho was bringing his new dog?” This was a new voice, echoing down the hall until its owner appeared behind Hyunjin. The new man was almost as tall as the other, with neat chestnut hair and delicate features.

He looked younger, softer—but his eyes glinted with unusual intelligence behind thin-rimmed glasses as he raised an eyebrow at Hyunjin. There was an undeniable fondness there, too—mirrored with the fondness in Hyunjin’s gaze as the taller man looked back at him.

_Ah,_ so here was another couple.

“Do I get to come in, or what?” Minho broke in, feigning annoyance.

The two looked back at him and laughed together, both stepping backwards so Minho could move into the apartment. Jisung wriggled happily as he felt the warmth of the heated space sink into his fur. Minho pulled off his coat, letting Hyunjin and the other man fawn over Jisung once the puppy was fully revealed.

“Seungmin, where’s your dog?” Minho asked after a moment of the two cooing uncomfortably close to Jisung.

The brunette—Seungmin—looked up. “Innie’s playing with Kkami in the living room…and he’s Hyunjin’s dog, by the way.”

Hyunjin grumbled, straightening up to give the other a reprimanding look. “You always say that, Seungminnie. Kkami’s _our_ dog.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes, but Jisung spotted his cheeks reddening at Hyunjin’s declaration.

Minho shook his head at the two of them. “Well, I think my puppy might like to play with your _shared_ dog, if that’s alright.”

Hyunjin nodded, a smile replacing his pout immediately. “Sure, hyung!”

And with that, Jisung was carried into the unit and set on the carpet by Minho. Almost immediately, he was bowled over by what seemed to be a large, furry bomb—one with a slobbery tongue, at that. Disoriented, Jisung quickly picked himself back up—only to be bowled over once again.

“Kkami, be _careful_ with the puppy!”

Laughter sounded around them as Jisung managed to regain his bearings. He glared at his attacker—a happily panting dog with long black-and-white fur and cutely pointed ears. Tackling your guests _had_ to be rude…but maybe not in dog etiquette.

Suddenly self-conscious in front of an actual dog, Jisung sat up hesitantly. His only interactions with other dogs had been fighting for food on the streets and escaping from their bared teeth when he could. What did dogs do to be friendly with one another?

A probing nose ran along his side without warning, and Jisung stood stock-still in shock. Oh right, they _smelled_ each other. He half-heartedly ran his nose along Kkami’s side when the other dog was finished inspecting him, hoping that was good enough to convince everyone.

“They’re so cute together, hyung.” A new voice sounded from above, and Jisung looked up to see a young boy with mischievous almond eyes and a smile full of silvery braces sitting on the couch next to Minho.

“Yeah, but mine’s still the cutest,” Minho stage-whispered in response, and Jisung couldn’t help but preen as Hyunjin and Seungmin voiced loud protests from the other side of the room. It was the praise, more than anything, that got Jisung to entertain the other dog for far too long—play-wrestling and chasing each other around and all that.

The humans talked above them, occasionally cooing over the two dogs and drinking cup after cup of tea. Jisung grew tired after a while, and trotted over to give Minho a pleading look in hopes of escaping Kkami’s unceasing energy.

The man grinned down at him and lifted the puppy into his lap without preamble, ignoring the other boys as they teased him for being soft. Jisung paid them no mind, all too happy to just snuggle into Minho’s warmth and observe the others.

Conversation picked up again after a moment, but Minho kept one hand gently petting Jisung. Pleased at the affection, Jisung watched as Hyunjin and Seungmin teased each other, the other boy (who Jisung learned was named Jeongin), and Minho until one or all of them broke out laughing.

It was also more than a little amusing to watch how easily Hyunjin and Seungmin could fluster each other with the simplest of touches. Jisung felt himself melting a little at the sight of their affection—so new and fragile, but full of warmth nonetheless.

As for Minho, Jisung knew the man well enough by now to know when he was truly happy…and this was one of those times. Comforted by this—and warmed by Minho’s soft hands and the heat of the room—Jisung let himself drift off to the sound of laughter.

He awoke again only when Minho stood up to leave, the man carefully cradling the puppy’s body in one arm as he took his coat in the other. Jisung yawned and gave a lick on the cheek to Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin as they said goodbye one by one.

Once outside, he watched the door close to the apartment—one full of laughing boys and warmth. One that—more importantly than anything else in the whole world—made Minho _happy._

Snuggled into the coat collar, Jisung watched as Minho smiled the whole way home.

 

Nightfall found Jisung curled next to Minho as usual, drinking in the cinnamon scent of the man’s skin and watching as Minho scrolled through his phone in vague interest.

After a few minutes of mindless Instagram feed, Minho shut his phone off and rolled over to look Jisung in the eyes. The puppy panted back at him happily, and Minho grinned in response—his smile gleaming in the moonlight.

“Today was perfect,” Minho whispered, like the words were a beautiful secret. “More perfect because you were there, of course.”

Jisung promptly crawled over to Minho and licked him on the cheek to show his agreement.

_Perfect because you were there—perfect because you are here, with me._

Minho sighed contentedly, dragging Jisung’s furry body over to nestle against his.

“Sweet puppy, sleepy puppy… _my_ puppy,” he sang, and then broke off to giggle at his own silliness.

Jisung couldn’t help but burrow closer—he _loved_ listening to Minho sing. And, as if the man knew exactly what the puppy was thinking as he so often did, Minho began to hum softly. Moonlight draped over their figures as his rough humming filled the room.

And in that moment, Jisung thought perfection could be nothing less than this.

If only he knew how fleeting it was.

 

_“Jisung!”_

Jisung opened his eyes.

Sunlight dripped down cream walls and pooled across white bedsheets. A houseplant gently waved its leaves at him from the corner.

Minho stood in the corner, face white with terror and eyes impossibly wide as he stared at the bed.

Immediately on his guard, Jisung sat up and looked around the bed to see what had scared Minho so badly— _Minho,_ who killed every bug in his apartment without any fuss and managed to keep his cool in almost every situation.

Finding nothing, he looked back to see Minho had shrunk further into the corner, chest rising and falling erratically. Growing more concerned, Jisung reached out to him without thinking—

Only to see a hand stretch in front of him.

_His_ hand.

_Holy fuck—holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck—_

“Minho!” Jisung burst out without thinking—just desperate to explain, to dispel the fear in Minho’s eyes, to say _something._

At the sound of his name on Jisung’s lips, Minho let out a squeak of terror and ran out of the room. Swearing under his breath, Jisung threw back his sheets to see that it was true—he was _human_ again, and dressed in the same T-shirt and jeans he had cursed himself in.

He scrambled out of bed, falling to the floor immediately as his limbs were so unused to walking. Jisung ended up half-crawling out of the room, where he found Minho in the kitchen with a saucepan raised threateningly.

“Who the fuck are you?” Minho demanded, eyes still fearful but glinting with determination as he lofted the saucepan higher.

Jisung managed to pull himself onto his feet, his entire body shaking as he fought to keep his composure. “Please—I’m Jisung, I can explain! I promise I’m not here to hurt you, I—I’m your dog.”

“ _What the fuck?”_ Minho practically screamed, brandishing the saucepan with a shaking hand. “Fuck, you’re crazy…there’s a crazy person in my _apartment!”_

Jisung shook his head, nearly falling over as he tried desperately to think of something, _anything_ that could convince Minho—

“Get the fuck out,” Minho said quietly, face very pale as he leveled Jisung with a razor-sharp glare. “Or else I’ll call the police.”

Jisung felt a sob build in his throat. There was nothing he could do that would convince Minho—nothing that would help. This was the only way.

He closed his eyes, straining for any sort of composure and failing as he took a shaky breath. He looked back at Minho, and—with his heart shattering in his chest—Jisung nodded.

“Okay…I’ll go,” he said, and limped over to the door with his fists clenched so tight that blood welled under his nails.

Minho watched him with narrowed, untrusting eyes—and that was the worst part of it all. This was the last time he would ever see Minho…and the older was looking at him with nothing but hatred in the eyes that Jisung loved so much.

Three words clawed their way to the top of his throat, and Jisung pulled the door open—but they spilled past his lips before he could leave.

“I’m so sorry.”

_I love you._

And with that, he closed the door on the apartment—one that housed three cats, and four houseplants, and a heartbreakingly beautiful man.

The only home that Jisung had ever known.


	5. bitter snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo im not dead and neither is this fic! if yall are used to my bullshit writing techniques, you know i love cliffies...so sorry about that last one (: anygays this one is a bit transitional but still pretty sad...I promise fluff will come soon! idk when imma update next bc the impending doom of finals is looming on the horizon, but I'll do my best to not set everything on fire.

 

Jisung wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking.

He wasn’t sure of anything, really. All he knew in the world were two things: he was really fucking cold, and he could never see Minho again.

_Fuck._

It hurt to even think Minho’s name.

So he didn’t think about Minho. Didn’t think about cinnamon skin or soft hands or the hatred in Minho’s eyes—

Didn’t think about it.

Instead, he thought about his list of fuck-ups.

This entire affair had surpassed the list of his terrible, humiliating colossal fuck-ups and gone straight on to the worst fuck-up of his entire life. Although knowing himself, Jisung would probably manage to fuck up even more at some point.

That’s all Jisung was at this point: a fuck-up who wasn’t worth shit.

A really cold fuck-up at that, because he was still in the same jeans and T-shirt that he’d run out of Minho’s in—he hadn’t even found shoes. Because that was how spells that turned you into an animal for months worked, apparently: you were transformed along with the clothes you were in.

Jisung would maybe find that interesting if it hadn’t been snowing for the past hour, leaving him to shiver uncontrollably.

Fucking magic.

_Stupid good-for-nothing useless fuckupfuckupfuckup—_

It didn’t matter anyways—Jisung had stopped feeling the cold hours ago. He was pretty sure his fingers were turning blue, even. But he just…couldn’t stop walking.

It’s not like he had anywhere to go—no money to call a taxi to his shop, no keys to get inside. Jisung wasn’t even sure if his shop was still there. He hadn’t paid rent or anything while he was busy being a fucking dog, and property in Seoul didn’t just sit around.

With a pang, he pictured his shop as he had left it in his mind: shelves crowded with bottled potions and miscellaneous ingredients, spellbooks and crystals scattered across his workspace, ivy plants stretching their dark green vines along the walls and ceiling.

He had loved his shop so much—it was the first place that had really been his.

And now it was all ruined.

_Stupid useless nothing—_

So Jisung just kept walking, torturing his tired limbs that hadn’t walked as a human for months. He didn’t even consider stopping until the sun started setting. And by then, Jisung had to force himself to walk a little further to a place he’d remembered sleeping in as a dog.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing—and Jisung had never been found by other stray dogs in this particular place. Not that it really mattered now, he supposed.

He ducked into a few wrong alleyways until he found it at last—the same pile of cardboard boxes next to the back door of a warm shop, just the same as when he’d been a dog. So Jisung curled up as close as he could to the heat emanating through the door, tucking himself behind the cardboard boxes so as not to be seen.

And then—finally, after hours of numbness—Jisung let himself cry.

He did his best to muffle the sobs into his fists, but the sounds of his heart breaking echoed throughout the alleyway nonetheless. It was the first time he’d cried since—well, since leaving home. He’d cried then as he drove away, his home fading in the rearview window and his parents’ jagged words echoing in his ears.

_Embarrassment of the family—demonic freak—_

And Jisung cried now, huddled in a pile of boxes and with the image of Minho’s terrified face painted on the backs of his eyelids.

In that moment, Jisung admitted the truth to himself—he had let himself fall in love with Minho, had taken advantage of the man’s kindness for months to feed his own selfish heart. And here was the result: a worried Minho who was now frantically searching for a puppy that no longer existed.

Because Jisung knew Minho, and he knew the man had loved his dog. Images of Minho crying into his fur, telling Jisung how much he needed him and introducing him to his friends played across Jisung’s mind. Yes—Minho had loved his dog.

But he hadn’t loved Jiusng.

And Jisung had let himself forget that.

With that thought echoing in his mind, Jisung finally felt himself shatter in that alleyway. He let his shaking pieces spill over the pavement, and he didn’t bother to pick them up.

There was no point anymore.

_You will be alone always—_

 

Minho was, quite frankly, panicking.

First he’d woken up to a literal fucking stranger in his _bed,_ who had also somehow known his name, which was terrifying enough. The guy was probably drunk and stumbled into the wrong apartment, but…how in the hell had he known Minho’s name?

It didn’t make sense.

But it wasn’t until after he threatened the police on the guy and got him to leave, that the real nightmare began. The nightmare of walking through every room in his apartment as the icy feeling in his chest spread, as fear curled tighter around his neck—

As Minho realized his puppy was gone.

That’s when the panic set in.

He grabbed his phone, dialing Chan’s number without thinking—because Chan always knew what to do, somehow. Chan would be able to loosen the fear locked around Minho’s neck, Chan would calm his stuttering heart, Chan would—

Chan would help him find his puppy.

“Minho?”

Minho almost cried with relief at the sound of Chan’s voice. “Chan, thank god. I—I don’t know what to do. There was a guy in my apartment and he knew my name and—and—my puppy is gone.”

He heard Chan draw in a sharp breath over the line.

“Shit, Minho—I’ll be over as quick as I can alright?”

“Okay,” Minho said shakily.

He ended the call and glanced around his empty apartment, clutching his phone tightly. Dori padded up to him and batted her paw against his arm, a sure sign she knew he was upset. Minho felt a lump form in his throat, and he cradled her furry body in his arms.

“Dori, what if whoever that guy was…what if he did something to my puppy? Why can’t I find my puppy?” he whispered into her fur, swallowing back a sob.

Dori only meowed softly.

 

He hadn’t moved from that spot when Chan burst in through the door a little while later, eyes frantic as they bounced around the room before landing on Minho. The older boy rushed over to put an arm around Minho’s shoulders, lifting the younger’s chin up to meet his gaze.

It made Minho feel small—almost like a child looking up at his older brother. He had never had any siblings, but…he thought that must be what it felt like, to trust in a sibling so completely.

“Your puppy is missing?” Chan asked without preamble.

His mouth tightened with worry when Minho nodded in response. “Okay, we’ll find him. Let’s—let’s ask your neighbors if they saw him first. Maybe he ran out the door when you weren’t looking.”

Heart in his throat, Minho thought back to that morning—brandishing a pan at the stranger in his kitchen who could barely hold himself upright and whose eyes had pleaded with Minho with a stark desperation.

Whose eyes—his _eyes_.

_Hm._

Minho shook off the thought before it could form in favor of getting up to follow Chan into the hallway, where they proceeded to knock on the door of every neighbor in his entire hall.

No one had seen a puppy.

They moved outside after that, wading around in the snow and calling out for the little dog. That was the worst part of all, because every call of “puppy!” was a reminder that Minho had never even given his dog a name.

With a shudder that he pretended was from the cold, Minho wondered if maybe the dog had just…run away. Maybe he hadn’t been happy with Minho, a struggling dance teacher in a tiny apartment.

_You deserve a good family, with a backyard and kids—_

_You deserve more than me._

Minho swallowed hard, and called out for his puppy with renewed vigor. If— _when—_ he found his puppy, Minho vowed to be a better owner. To take the dog on more walks and buy him that expensive organic dog food that Hyunjin and Seungmin got for Kkami. To give him a real name, instead of just “puppy.”

To make the puppy as happy as he made Minho.

“Puppy! C’mere, puppy!” Chan’s voice carried over the sounds of car horns and distant sirens—the sounds of the city.

A city that Minho’s puppy was wandering in, lost and cold and alone.

 

Dusk found Minho sitting side by side with Chan on the couch, his mug of tea untouched on the table. Woojin was in his kitchen, clattering things together in the name of making soup, as Jeongin talked quietly to the oldest. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Felix sat together on the floor, carefully writing out “MISSING DOG” posters.

Changbin was busy gluing photos of the puppy onto the posters, a task that Minho had tried to help with at first. He had to stop after ten minutes, unable to look at another picture of the puppy without a sob rising in his throat.

So he was relegated to the couch, where he sat in silence next to Chan—who sat close enough to be a comforting presence but not enough to be overwhelming. All his friends were being incredibly thoughtful, and Minho felt guilty for his reticence—he just couldn’t bring himself to participate in any conversations.

Instead, he watched his friends exist together.

Woojin came out of the kitchen periodically with a towel thrown over one shoulder to check on them, dropping a kiss to Chan’s head each time. Changbin whispered to Felix every now and then to make the younger smile, since Felix had been frowning since he first heard the puppy he was so infatuated with was missing.

Seungmin and Jeongin traded snarky comments as Hyunjin listened with a smile before dragging Jeongin into a bear-hug that the youngest pretended to be annoyed by. When he wasn’t tackling Jeonging, Hyunjin snaked an arm around Seungmin’s waist whenever he got a free hand—and Minho watched as a blush reddened both their cheeks each time.

There was so much intimacy, so much affection between them all.

Minho loved his friends fiercely, and he knew they felt the same for him. But in that moment…he couldn’t help but feel incredibly alone.

He twisted his fingers together, watching the skin whiten under the pressure. It was funny, really—how he’d scoffed when Chan had tried to bring up how much the puppy meant to Minho. How he’d pretended that he was _fine_ before the puppy.

This day had proved all that to be utter bullshit.

And perhaps just as worryingly, he couldn’t seem to get that—that _stranger_ out of his head. After blurting it to Chan over the phone in a rush of breath that he was sure Chan only caught half of, Minho hadn’t mentioned it again. Neither had Chan.

Minho told himself it didn’t matter—but the truth was, he knew it was because saying it out loud would make it real. It would mean that the nightmarish morning had actually happened, and that he wasn’t safe in his own apartment.

Except—something about the guy kept Minho from being truly afraid of him.

Sure, it hadn’t been a pleasant experience to wake up next to a guy he’d never seen before in his life, and he’d been scared in the moment. But the guy—boy, really—had looked at him with so much desperation in his eyes. And he had barely been able to walk, much less attack Minho.

The more he thought about it, the more something niggled at the back of Minho’s mind.

There was something about the boy…the way he’d looked at Minho…the way the pleading in those deep brown eyes had tugged at the strings of Minho’s heart…

His _eyes._

_Holy fuck._

With a gasp, Minho sat upright. Next to him, Chan sat up as well with a worried look.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hand coming up to rest on Minho’s shoulder. “Minho?”

Minho barely heard him.

_His eyes—_

Minho hadn’t been able to look away from the boy’s eyes. The very same eyes that he hadn’t been able to look away from when they caught his gaze from under a car, the very same eyes that he’d woken up next to for months.

It was impossible—but Minho knew it to be true.

The boy had the same eyes as his puppy.

“ _Minho!”_

Minho startled at the sound of Chan’s voice right in his ear. He turned to stare at the other boy, absolutely no idea what emotions were playing across his face as Chan searched his eyes. Chan looked frightened, Minho realized absently.

Chan didn’t often look frightened.

“Chan…” Minho started, then took a steadying breath before continuing. “Chan—I think I realized something.”


	6. dawning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i wish i was smart and had an actual theme for chapter titles. anyways we at it again! finals are over for me so I’m ready to get back in the writing game (: this one starts with some angst, but I promise this story will return to its fluffiness soon. also do y’all think I should do an extra fluff chapter of minho and jisung having Christmas together? or is that weird idk lmk

Jisung swallowed hard.

There it was. His shop.

He forced his bare feet to keep moving forward—around the corner, down the street, past the little cake shops and convenience stores and apartment buildings until…he came to a stop in front of his shop.

Jisung let a breath of air rush into his lungs at the sight of it—still unoccupied. He thanked every god who might be listening for answering his prayers, and then forced himself to move forward.

Jisung carefully pushed open the door and slipped inside to see his shelves had been ransacked, potion bottles and ingredients all over the floor. Most of the plants growing along the walls were dead. Everything was covered in a thin coating of dust.

But none of that really mattered. The shop was still here, and it was still _his._

Jisung didn’t know what he would have done if he’d gotten here only to find his shop had been converted into a boba place or an Internet café. Probably would have cried, if he was being honest.

As it was, Jisung fell to his knees in the middle of the floor—looking around at his shop with a heavy, bittersweet gratitude filling his lungs. He might have lost Minho, and the cats, and all of the warmth of that life, but…he still had this.

His shop.

Tears pricked at Jisung’s eyes, and he swiped at them helplessly as he choked back a sob. This was his life now. And as hopeless as it may have looked, he was still here. He was going to survive, no matter what it took.

Jisung rose from his knees, trembling all the while, and made his way to the back room of the shop. This was where he’d been living before, as he hadn’t exactly had enough money to both start a business and find somewhere to live in Seoul.

Jisung ducked past the ragged curtain separating the room from the rest of the place, and smiled at the sight of his cot still in the corner—blankets mussed as though he’d only just left it that morning.

Somebody had taken his space heater and portable stove, as well as his radio. Gone were his watch, his car keys—Jisung mourned the loss of his car briefly, but didn’t let himself wallow. He could get around by walking and the train, and his car had been about to break down anyways.

There were still a few articles of clothing strewn about, and Jisung quickly shrugged on as many as he could for warmth.  He stepped into his worn-out sneakers with a bright smile, his facial muscles stretching with the unfamiliar sensation after so many tears.

His mini fridge had been taken, too—Jisung frowned as his stomach gurgled angrily with hunger. If he remembered correctly, though…Jisung dug around in the boxes under his bed to find some crackers and soup cans he’d left under there.

And it was then that Jisung ate his first meal in two days—cold soup and crackers on the floor of his abandoned shop, grinning like a maniac the entire time.

He was going to be alright.

 

“I still can’t believe you’re not dead.”

Jisung gave his landlord a nervous smile, not sure how to respond to _that._

“Well…” he gestured lamely. “I’m not?”

His landlord was…an interesting man. Jisung had previously only interacted with him enough to sign the lease for the shop and to hand in his rent check every month. Each time, the stout, balding man just gave a grunt of acknowledgement as he peered at Jisung over the tops of his glasses—and that was it.

The interesting part came with the slightly terrifying collection of taxidermy that was displayed all over the man’s office. Currently, Jisung was cowering under the dead stare of an angry-looking heron, wings spread as if ready to attack at any moment.

His landlord made a grumbling sound, drawing Jisung’s eyes away from the heron and to the man in front of him.

“So…it’s alright if I start up the shop again?” Jisung ventured. “Again, I’m so sorry for my sudden leave of absence but I would be happy to start paying rent again.”

The landlord gave Jisung a long, narrowed look over his glasses. The heron seemed to bristle with irritation.

“I will let you come back,” he said, and then continued over Jisung’s sigh of relief. “But! You have to pay the sum of the rent for all the months you missed before you can open your shop again.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped. “But—why can’t I just stay here and work and pay you back the money at the same time?”

The landlord shook his head, grumbling increasing in volume. “You need to prove that you can be a stable payer again—not every landlord would let you just waltz back in and reclaim the place without paying rent for months or giving even so much as a notice!”

The heron seemed to be cackling at him now, eyes alight with vindictive humor.

Jisung shrank back in his seat, feeling very young and very small all of a sudden. “But—if I can’t sell things in my shop, how I will get the money to pay you back?”

His landlord shrugged, eyes returning to the papers spread over his desk. “Not my problem, Han. I can give you two months—and then I’m selling the place.”

A sob rose in Jisung’s throat.

_Two months? That’s it?_

“Congratulations on being alive. Now, if you would so kindly…” The landlord nodded at the door, a clear dismissal. The heron snapped its beak in victory.

Jisung curled his hands into fists, the smarting pain holding his tongue as he stood up shakily and bowed to the landlord before striding out of the office.

So he was homeless, until he could make enough money to get his shop back.

In what world did _that_ make sense?

But Jisung did as he was told. He bundled up his remaining items of clothing, the rest of the soup and crackers, and some dusty emergency healing potions that had rolled underneath the counter—before turning back to give his shop one last look.

He would make it back here…he had to.

And then Jisung walked out of his shop, not knowing if he’d ever step foot there again.

 

Sometimes, Jisung was grateful for how shitty his life had been so far. Because the years of getting punched in back alleyways and yelled at in his kitchen, the years of working so hard without ever being enough—those years had taught him how to survive.

It might be the only thing he knew how to do, at this point.

So Jisung got a job working at a fast food restaurant near the shop, and spent his nights sleeping in a rotation of a couple different parks. If he stayed anywhere too long, he might attract other homeless people—and that could be dangerous.

Jisung knew he wasn’t making enough money to pay back his landlord, but he hoped the amount would be enough to tide him over until at least the third month. He would have to beg, grovel a bit…but he didn’t have another choice.

It wasn’t an easy life—but when had Jisung’s life ever been easy?

He survived, just as he always had.

And so three weeks passed in this fashion—eating leftovers at the restaurant before washing himself as best he could in the sink and changing out of his uniform, then walking to the park of the night and shivering on a bench for a few hours until he woke again at dawn to go to work.

Until one night—when everything changed.

As it always does, really.

 

Jisung sighed, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets in a vain attempt to shield them from the cold. His breath puffed out in front of him, white clouds that reminded him of cigarette smoke. A sudden image of his dad appeared in his mind’s eye, murmuring to his mother over the newspaper as smoke billowed around his head like a wreath.

Jisung wondered if his dad still smoked Marlboros like he used to—one at breakfast, a few at work, and two in the evening.

Jisung wondered a lot of things about his family.

_Demonic freak—_

He shoved those memories back into their box and focused on trudging forward through the cold Seoul night. His shift had been particularly long today, and all Jisung wanted to do was curl up on his cot back at the shop. Or more than that—curl up in Minho’s bed, the sheets always smelling of cinnamon and the cheap laundry detergent that Minho used.

Of course, Jisung couldn’t do either of those things.

So instead, he walked in search of a good park to sleep in that night. His usual Tuesday night park had been claimed by a group of homeless people three days ago, so Jisung was on the hunt for a new one. His feet led him further and further into Eastern Seoul…and then he found it.

The park that Minho had taken him to, when he was a puppy.

Jisung swallowed hard, feet slowing to a stop at the entrance. It had looked different when he was a dog, of course—but he recognized it all the same. Images of Minho’s eyes slanted in amusement, lips curled in a smirk, eyebrows lifted in surprise—they flashed across his mind.

Jisung tried to pretend his sudden shivering was because of the cold.

_It’s just a park, nothing more._

Swallowing hard, he walked slowly into the park and headed for a bench tucked away from the path a bit. A tree spread its branches overhead, leaves gone but protective nonetheless. With a shaky sigh, Jisung curled up on his side on the bench, hugging his pack to his chest.

A light snow began to fall, and Jisung shrunk into the clothes he had draped over himself. White flakes melted into his skin as he closed his eyes at last, but didn’t sleep right away. Jisung was terrified of dreaming about Minho.

The happy dreams—the ones full of sunlight and Minho’s laughter—just left him achingly sad when he woke up.

The sad dreams—the ones where Minho’s lip curled with disgust as he stared down at Jisung and said words dripping with poison—always ended in Jisung waking up with tears streaking down his cheeks.

It was almost too much for his cracked heart to bear.

But on this night, Jisung couldn’t help the wave of exhaustion that swept over him—and he let himself sleep at last.

This time, he didn’t dream.

 

“Hey.”

Jisung’s eyes snapped open, heartbeat skyrocketing immediately. He was greeted with the image of— _oh god._

Minho’s face, right next to his.

Jisung let out a very undignified scream and promptly fell off the bench.

“Fuck, are you alright?”

Jisung scrambled backwards, caught in a tangle of clothes as he stared up at Minho in shock. The man was just standing there, eyes wide with surprise as he reached a hand out to Jisung—who could only stare at the hand with his mouth wide open.

What in the _hell_ was Minho doing here, talking to Jisung?

After a long moment, Minho retracted his hand and stuffed it back into the pocket of his long coat. It was a bit big on his lean frame, and Jisung knew Woojin had given it to him. Minho’s dark hair was windswept, but still fell over his forehead in endearing waves. The cold air dusted his cheekbones with spots of pink.

Jisung was so completely fucked.

Discomfort flickered over Minho’s features as the silence stretched on, and Jisung knew he should probably act like a normal human being and _say something…_ but he just couldn’t.

“Look, can I talk to you for a second?” Minho said at last, eyes flitting anywhere but the boy sprawled in front of him.

Jisung gulped and nodded, untangling himself enough to stand up and sit on the bench. His eyes never left Minho’s frame. After a moment, the man sat down next to him—far enough that they didn’t touch, but close enough that they could talk quietly and still hear each other.

Jisung ached for Minho’s touch.

_He is not yours to touch anymore—he never was._

Jisung curled his hands around the hem of the ragged, over-sized sweatshirt that was draped over his frame. He knew he must look like absolute shit. His clothes were all old and threadbare—some even stained.

God, what if he smelled? Jisung tried to wash as best he could in the sink in the restaurant, but he hadn’t showered in weeks.

Closing his eyes briefly as shame swelled within him, Jisung took a shaky breath and turned towards Minho expectantly.

Minho looked down at his hands, before pinning Jisung into place with a sudden gaze. “Why do you have the same eyes as my dog?”

Jisung’s jaw dropped. That was about the _last_ thing he had expected Minho expected to say. He was sure Minho was going to threaten him about keeping the fuck away from his apartment, or calling the police, or _anything else._

Minho sighed, a tinge of impatience filtering into his tone. “Look, I know I just came up to you out of nowhere, but I had to find you. My puppy’s been missing for weeks and you’re the last person I saw before I lost him and…I just have to know, okay? Why are your eyes the same?”

Jisung desperately searched his brain for a conceivable lie, but came up with nothing. Perhaps it was time at last, for the ugly truth to be said out loud.

“U-um…” Jisung cursed the stammer that fell from his lips. He cleared his throat. “I—well…um. I’m a witch.”

He closed his eyes tightly, preparing himself for the sure barrage of insults, for the noises of disgust, for Minho to get up and walk away.

“Oh.”

Jisung’s eyes popped open, and he stared at Minho in disbelief. “Oh? That’s it?”

Minho shrugged. “My best friend Chan is a witch. We don’t really talk about it much because he doesn’t need to use his magic often, but I’ve always known.”

_Wait—Chan? A witch?_

Snippets of memories raced through Jisung’s mind—Chan speaking to Jisung as if he knew the puppy could understand. Chan looking at Jisung with a careful, measuring gaze.

_Another witch—just like me._

Jisung gaped at Minho for a second longer before snapping his mouth shut and sitting back as he processed the new information. “Okay…well. Yeah. I’m a witch, too…and I used to run a potions shop. And then one day, I was performing a new spell…”

_A friendship spell, because I was (am) a lonely idiot,_ he thought but didn’t say.

He sighed and glanced over at Minho. “You’re not going to believe me.”

Minho searched his eyes for a moment. “Try me.”

Jisung bit his lip, looking away. “Iturnedmyselfintoadogbyaccident.”

“You _what?”_ Minho asked in confusion.

“I turned myself into a dog by accident, okay?” Jisung groaned. “It—it wasn’t my best moment.”

Minho’s eyes grew comically wide. “But then…you…are you saying…?”

Jisung nodded miserably. “I was your dog.”

Minho’s jaw dropped. Silence stretched between them for a long, horrible moment—before Jisung couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m _sorry,_ okay?” he practically wailed. “I never meant to take advantage of you—I just didn’t have anywhere to go—and I was so hungry, and…I just…”

“I didn’t have anyone to help me,” he finished quietly, the sad truth of those words reverberating through his bones.

_Nobody who cared about me—_

Minho remained silent, but his eyes took in every detail of Jisung’s shivering frame as the younger boy focused on trying not to cry and embarrassing himself further.

_You will be alone always—_

“Do you want to come over for tea?”

Jisung looked incredulously at Minho, but the man had immediately looked away from him at the request. His ears were tinged slightly pink.

_Fucking tea?_

_What if it’s a trap?_

But…hot tea and warmth sounded too good to pass up right now, no matter who was offering or the danger that could be involved. Jisung twisted his hands together nervously.

“Uh…sure.”

Minho nodded and stood up. “Okay, let’s go.”

Jisung frantically shoved his stuff into his backpack, slinging it over one shoulder as he hurried to follow Minho. The man was already walking in the familiar direction of his apartment, and Jisung almost wanted to laugh at the irony.

Here they were, on a walk together—just as they had done countless times before. Except now, the fresh snow crunched both under Minho’s boots and Jisung’s sneakers. Now, Jisung clung to his backpack instead of the collar of Minho’s coat.

Everything was same—and everything was different.

A moment in time, repeated.

Jisung slowed without realizing, eyes on the muddy snow and mind far away. What would happen when they got to Minho’s apartment? What if Minho called the cops on him? Did Minho even believe him?

“C’mon, slowpoke!”

Jisung’s head snapped up to see Minho standing several yards ahead, a tentative grin stretched over his lips. A hint of the teasing Minho that Jisung had known so well.

Jisung bit back a smile of his own and hurried to catch up.

“Sorry,” he said breathlessly, once he and Minho were walking side by side again.

Minho just shook his head, but Jisung caught a half-smirk escaping from his lips as the man turned to walk forward.

_The same, but different._

_A moment in time, repeated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real quick: even though I wrote about jisung experiencing homelessness in this chapter, I in no way am trying to accurately represent what that situation looks like or including all the hardships that are involved with it. so yeah if anyone you know is experiencing homelessness then I encourage you to support them in any way you can, and if you don’t…then as you walk by people experiencing homelessness, try looking into their eyes and responding to them (even if you can’t give any money) instead of ignoring them. okayyy and rant over!


	7. golden feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so that Christmas fluff I considered writing for this fic never happened but INSTEAD I wrote this hopefully very fluffy reunion chapter to make up for it ((: also fuck this chapter is so goddman long why am I so jobless

Minho wasn’t quite sure what he’d gotten himself into.

He’d been taking walks every morning out of habit for a while now, even if he no longer had the puppy to walk with. They still helped clear his head, and the familiar park that he’d always taken the puppy to was relatively deserted in the early part of the day.

That morning had been just like any other…until he found that guy.

Kid, really.

The same one who’d slept next to him like he belonged in Minho’s bed, who’d pleaded with Minho in his own damn apartment as tears welled in his eyes. The eyes that were so like his puppy’s.

And all of a sudden, there he was—a shivering lump curled up on a park bench, face peeking out just enough to be recognizable. Minho hadn’t quite known what to do next, until he found himself waking the kid up and talking to him.

From there…well. Things just sort of happened.

Which led him to this moment: walking next to a stranger (who was noticeably a couple inches shorter than himself, and kept sending quick glances up at Minho through the fringe of his dark hair) on the way to his apartment.

Minho started as he realized he still didn’t even know this guy’s name.

“So…you know my name, but you never told me yours,” Minho said, looking over to see the other had already been looking at him with wide eyes. He smirked as the guy jumped a little in surprise at being addressed.

“Oh! I’m Jisung…Han Jisung,” he replied, his free hand coming up to tug at a strand of his messy hair self-consciously.

“Han Jisung,” Minho repeated, turning the words over in his mouth as if to taste the sound of them. The name seemed to fit the boy beside him well enough. Unbidden, an image of the long list of dog names he’d pored over without success flashed through his mind.

None of the lists had ever included Jisung.

Shrugging off that particular thought, he turned to tell Jisung to turn left at the intersection in front of them—but found the boy already walking in that direction. As if he had walked this way many times before, as if it was habit to him.

Minho stood still for a moment.

_Could it really be?_

“Uh…Minho-ssi?”

He turned to see Jisung looking back at him in confusion, already a few yards ahead. Minho shook himself and caught up with Jisung, muttering an apology as they walked on. A few minutes later, they arrived at the doors of his familiar apartment building.

Minho was glad when they got to his door at last. Seoul had felt colder than ever these past few weeks, and it was a relief to step inside the warmth of his home. He took note of how hard Jisung was shivering in his too-thin clothes, and decided to turn up the heat.

For completely unrelated reasons, of course.

He shrugged off his coat and turned to take Jisung’s—only to realize that the smaller boy hadn’t even been wearing a coat. Instead, what looked like a couple old hoodies were draped over the boy’s thin frame, and… _socks_ were wrapped around his hands in place of gloves.

Minho frowned at this, but didn’t comment in fear of embarrassing Jisung further. Instead, he just led the boy into a seat at the table before making his way into the kitchen to prepare the promised tea. Remembering how the bones were practically popping out of Jisung’s wrists, Minho threw together a sandwich as well.

For…completely unrelated reasons. Of course.

Tea now steeping in two steaming mugs, Minho was about to carry it all back to the table—when he caught sight of Jisung and Dori. The boy was smiling and whispering a greeting to her as she balanced on his lap and tried to bat at a loose string on his sweatshirt.

The scene was positively adorable.

It didn’t help that Jisung himself was…well. Sort of cute, in Minho’s opinion. Full cheeks that begged to be kissed, an adorably crooked smile, starry eyes that blinked up at Minho through tousled dark hair…okay. Really fucking cute, in Minho’s opinion.

Whatever. An irrelevant opinion.

Minho tilted his head, watching Dori settle down into Jisung’s lap. She was pretty outgoing for a cat, but…this was still a lot for a supposed stranger. His brow furrowed as he caught sight of Soonie padding up to Jisung’s chair with a meow.

Soonie definitely wasn’t outgoing…yet she weaved around Jisung’s legs with a purr.

And then _Doongie_ made an appearance, stretching leisurely before plopping down next to the chair and allowing Jisung to pass a gentle hand over her head. Doongie, who positively hated strangers and new things of any kind.

It was almost as if…his cats knew Jisung.

Minho swallowed hard.

_Could it be?_

He cleared his throat, moving forwards to noisily set the mugs and plates down on the table. He took a seat on the other side, nudging the plate with the sandwich on it towards Jisung with a pointed look. Jisung colored, looking down towards where Dori was still snuggled in his lap.

“You don’t have to feed me, Minho-ssi,” he said quietly.

Minho shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “Who said anything about me feeding you? I just made that for myself and decided I didn’t want it.”

Jisung gave him a disbelieving look, but took a careful bite out of the sandwich anyways.

“The cats seem to like you,” Minho noted, feeling a little betrayed that his three babies had completely abandoned their father in favor of hovering around Jisung.

Jisung grinned sheepishly. “Well…I did spend a lot of time playing with them while you were at work.”

The smile slid off Minho’s face as he sunk into thought, his mind conjuring a scene of Jisung the human snuggled up on Minho’s couch with the three cats all cuddled around him. It was hopelessly soft, and at once oddly familiar…even though he knew that had never actually happened.

Jisung, who was watching him very carefully, sighed at the blank expression on Minho’s face. He set his mug down with a clink and asked, “Do you believe me? I…I need to know.”

Minho swirled his tea instead of answering right away, watching the liquid splash against the sides of the mug. Did he believe that Jisung was really his dog for all that time? That this random homeless kid wasn’t just trying to scam him?

_Could it be you?_

“Believe you what?” he asked at last, smirking with pretended ignorance in an attempt to stall. Chan’s voice resounded in his ears, heavy with exasperation: _“Lee Minho, always teasing his way out of uncomfortable situations.”_

Well, fuck Chan and his annoying omnipotence. So what if Minho used snarking as a coping mechanism?

Jisung pouted, and Minho had to swallow back a coo at the sight. “You _know_ what. Please, it matters to me.”

Minho sighed, eyes glancing away from Jisung to land on Dori—now asleep in Jisung’s lap. Images of Jisung turning left at the intersection, Jisung whispering to Dori with a smile, Jisung petting Doongie in her favorite spot behind her ears all flitted through his mind.

And, _god_ …Jisung’s eyes.

“I think…” Minho began slowly, before shaking his head in defeat. “I think I’ve believed you for a while now.”

He looked up to see Jisung practically slump over with relief, eyes falling shut. Minho tilted his head. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

Jisung opened his eyes to meet Minho’s gaze, before nodding slowly. “I’m really surprised it didn’t take you longer, actually. Thought I’d have to do magic in front of you or even turn into a dog again for you to believe me.”

Minho hummed, a smirk playing about his lips. “Well…if you were feeling up to turning into my puppy again, I wouldn’t exactly say no.”

Jisung looked embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Sorry, Minho-ssi. I don’t…I don’t know how I did it. The spell I was doing had nothing to do with dogs, or magical transformation.”

Minho furrowed his brow. “What were you trying to do?”

A flush rose in Jisung’s cheeks. “Well, it was a spell about finding…or rather, trying to attract…um. Friendship.” He finished in a whisper, sinking so low in his seat that he practically fell out of the chair.

Minho barely kept himself from laughing outright. “Friendship? Whatever for?”

Jisung reddened further, looking like he would bolt for the door if he could. “I just didn’t know anyone in Seoul and wanted to find a couple friends, that’s all. I was…I was really lonely.”

Minho felt a pang in his chest at the thought of Jisung, young and small and alone in the heart of Seoul. He quickly brushed that topic away with a wave of his hand. “Well, no need for that anymore. By the way, stop calling me Minho-ssi. I’m not really one for formality.”

Jisung looked up at that, eyes widening hopefully. “What should I call you, then?”

“Hyung,” Minho said matter-of-factly, pretending not to notice the bright smile that Jisung quickly tried to hide behind his hand. “You’re definitely younger than me, anyways.”

Jisung took his hand away from his mouth to laugh softly. “What makes you think that?”

Minho snorted. “You’re way shorter than for me, for one thing.” He continued talking over Jisung’s immediate protest. “And you have a…kid face.”

“Hyung!” Jisung groaned, pressing his hands to his flaming cheeks. “I don’t have a kid face, that’s so mean!”

Minho did his best to ignore how his heart had jolted a little at the sound of Jisung calling him “hyung” so naturally. “It’s not mean, it’s just…you have a young-looking face, that’s all.”

Jisung pouted, this time so forcefully that Minho had to resist reaching over and pinching his cheeks. “It’s because of my puffy cheeks, isn’t it?”

He pulled at them unhappily, and Minho reached over to bat his hand away without thinking. Jisung’s breath caught at the sudden movement. Minho quickly snatched his hand back, not meeting Jisung’s eyes as he felt his own cheeks redden.

Goddamnit, what was this boy doing to him?

In a desperate attempt to distract both of them from what had just happened, Minho scrambled for anything to say. “So…how come you didn’t know anyone in Seoul? Did you just move here?”

There, that was safe. Definitely not something like “Can I touch your cheeks again?” or “Do you realize how unfairly cute you are?”

As the silence stretched on, Minho looked up to see Jisung staring at his mug of tea. The younger twisted his lips as if he had eaten something sour, before giving Minho a quick glance.

“I moved to Seoul by myself, yeah,” he began, before pausing for a long moment to give Minho an unusually calculating look. Whatever he saw must have reassured him, because Jisung continued, “I came from a town where people didn’t really believe in magic…or they did, but they preferred to pretend that it didn’t exist.”

Jisung smiled mirthlessly, Minho’s chest aching at the sight. “And for me…I couldn’t just pretend that an entire part of myself just didn’t exist.  I wanted to practice magic for real instead of shoving it down inside me for the rest of my life.”

He swallowed hard, eyes moving to the window. “My family…they didn’t agree with that. So I got fed up and moved to Seoul by myself the day after I turned twenty-two.”

Jisung looked over at Minho, a self-deprecating smile taking over his lips. “And then two months after that I fucked up so bad that I turned myself into a dog…and here we are. That’s my sob-story, anyways.”

“Kind of fucked up, isn’t it?” Jisung chuckled humorlessly. “Got so desperate for human contact in a city full of millions of people that I just…tried to magic my way out of it.”

“Jisung.” Minho’s voice was too soft in his own ears, too full of hurt for this boy sitting across from him. “It’s not fucked up. You’re not fucked up.”

A pained smile took over Jisung’s face. “How do you know, Minho-hyung?”

Minho’s breath caught. Something told him that his answer was incredibly important, in that moment. “I know what that feels like. To be so lonely, even when you’re surrounded by people. I’ve _lived_ that feeling, and you know that.”

He shook his head, remembering tears trickling into caramel fur and Chan’s voice saying, _“Don’t be a stranger, alright?”_

“You know that better than anyone, Jisung,” Minho continued. “I only cried to you about it…oh, two or three times. If I remember correctly.”

At this, Jisung let out a surprised laugh in spite of himself. “Ah…you’re right.”

Minho allowed himself a satisfied nod, and watched Jisung take another bite out of the sandwich. There were questions piling up on his tongue, but one was more important than the rest.

It was also the hardest one to ask.

So he let Jisung have a couple more minutes of peace, refilling their mugs and watching as Jisung played with a now-awake Dori and scratched Soonie’s chin. Doongie had retreated to the couch, where she was curled up peacefully.

Minho took a steadying sip of tea before asking gently, “Jisung…can I ask why you were sleeping on that bench?”

Jisung gulped audibly, and Minho immediately felt bad for ruining the peace that had settled on the younger’s face. Silence stretched between them for a long moment as Minho watched Jisung fidget first with the crusts of the sandwich, then the mug, and finally settle on petting Dori.

“You don’t have to answer,” he said gently, not wanting to push Jisung anymore than he already had.

The younger boy shook his head, still not meeting Minho’s eyes. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind telling you.”

Minho just nodded, content to wait patiently until Jisung was ready to tell his story. A couple more moments passed in silence before Jisung finally seemed to steel himself, and looked up towards Minho with resolve in his eyes.

“I came to Seoul to open up a potions shop,” he began, a hint of a smile sneaking onto his lips at the thought of his shop. “It had been my dream for so long, and for a couple months…I did it. It was the happiest time of my life up until that point.”

Jisung sighed, smiling wryly at Minho. “And then, you know the whole dog thing happened…so my shop was abandoned for a while. I went back there a few weeks ago, and luckily the landlord hasn’t sold it to anyone. But…he won’t let me reopen until I can pay him for all the rent I missed.”

“Seriously?” The scoff left Minho before he could stop it. “Landlords are such scum.”

Jisung shrugged sadly. “I don’t know…I’m just grateful it’s still there. But anyways, I was living in the back room of the shop before you, so now that I can’t live there…I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Jisung sneaked a quick glance at him, before continuing. “I’ve been working as much as I can to save up, because I only have two months to make all the money back. And that means…sleeping in parks, I guess.”

Minho was speechless for once, a dangerous mix of anger and protectiveness surging inside him. He sort of wanted to punch that landlord for forcing Jisung onto the streets, but he also sort of wanted to hug Jisung for the rest of time.

Neither were helpful desires, of course.

“Thank you for telling me all that,” Minho said at last, trying and failing to keep the tenderness out of his tone. “So…do you want to shower here, then? I bet you haven’t been able to in a while.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in horror. “I _knew_ it! I knew I smelled horrible!”

“No, no!” Minho waved his hands frantically. “That’s not it, I just…thought you might like it.”

Jisung curled into himself on the chair, face reddening as he spoke in a small voice. “I’ve already taken advantage of you so much, Minho-hyung. I don’t think I can stand doing it anymore.”

Minho stood upright, shaking his head. “Aish, stop that bullshit. I lied before—you smell horrible, and it’s taking advantage of me for you to not shower. Now go, you know where the bathroom is.”

Jisung unfurled his body, looking up at Minho with wide eyes before carefully setting Dori on the floor to stand up himself.

Minho gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “I’ll leave some clothes outside the door.”

Jisung sighed in defeat, nodding at Minho in thanks before shuffling off to the bathroom.

 

And that was how, an hour later, Minho found himself staring at the way his clothes swallowed Jisung’s tiny frame. The younger looked so _good_ in Minho’s old dance sweaters as he moved about the kitchen that it had to be illegal. To make it worse, they were throwing together a quick meal on Minho’s insistence.

The domesticity was sure to kill him.

Now that Jisung had showered, the caramel tones in his half-dry hair gleamed under the kitchen lights. _Just like the caramel fur of the puppy_ , Minho thought with a smile. His tanned skin had been wiped clean of dirt as well, and it shone when Jisung moved just so.

Minho could smell the scent of his own shampoo in Jisung’s hair when he moved closer, and it was unreasonably addicting.

In short, Minho had really fucked himself over with this one.

And on top of all that, it was so damn easy to just joke with Jisung as they cooked and ate together. Minho wasn’t great at getting along with just anyone, but it took him by surprise how well he and Jisung seemed to click once the younger was more comfortable.

They teased back and forth like it was second nature, trading insults sweetened with smiles and working themselves up into full-blown laughter more than a few times. Minho melted as Jisung rambled about his favorite potions, and found Jisung enraptured when he told his own stories from the dance studio.

Something about Jisung made it so damn easy for every single one of Minho’s walls to crumble.

It was more than a little terrifying.

They cleaned the dishes together afterwards, occasionally bumping hips and blushing as Jisung washed and Minho dried next to him. When the last dish was placed on the drying rack, Jisung turned to Minho with a suddenly serious look on his face.

“Hyung, I just wanted to apologize,” he said quietly, starry eyes latching onto Minho’s. “For making you lose your dog, and…I know you never asked for any of this to happen.”

Minho’s chest ached, wanting nothing more than to cup Jisung’s face in his hands and smooth away any worry or pain. He took the tiniest step closer, moving into Jisung’s space as the younger’s breath hitched at the proximity.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he replied just as quietly. “I’m…I’m grateful, actually. I didn’t how much I needed you as a puppy until I found you.”

Jisung didn’t reply, petal pink lips parted as he stared up Minho with those goddamn eyes. The light filtering in through the kitchen window set his irises on fire, turning them into a mesmerizing gold.

Minho ached with the need to touch him.

_So close—_

Jisung jumped backwards, as if suddenly hearing a silent alarm. “I’m-I’m sorry, I have to go. I have work really soon, and—sorry.”

Minho backed away, hiding the wave of strange disappointment that rose within him with a smile. “Of course, Jisungie. Don’t want you to be late to work.”

Jisung nodded quickly, hurrying to the door to pull on his falling-apart sneakers. “Thank you so much for the food and the clothes, hyung. I promise I’ll wash them and return them as soon as I get the chance.”

“No need for that. Just keep them,” Minho said firmly, leaning against the wall and watching Jisung get ready. An idea suddenly occurred to him, and he strode over to the closet to dig through its contents. He surfaced with an old coat that no longer fit him…but would surely fit Jisung’s smaller frame.

“Before you go, would you take this?” He held up the proffered coat with a beguiling smile. “It’s taking up space in my closet, but it doesn’t accentuate my dashing features at all.”

Jisung gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Minho was trying to do, but took the coat anyways with a grateful smile. “Thank you, hyung.”

Minho shrugged. “Whatever.”

He watched Jisung pull on the coat with satisfaction, before reaching out to tug on the younger’s arm before he could leave. “Hey, if you ever need anything, you know to find me here…right?”

Jisung nodded, a bright smile lighting up his face. “Yes, Minho-hyung.” He looked down briefly before saddling Minho with a hopeful expression.

“Could I…maybe see you again? I understand if you don’t want to, because I’m just some random homeless guy, but—”

Minho cut him off with a raised hand. “Of course I do, Jisungie. I walk in that park every morning, so you can find me there…or call me? I can give you my number.”

Jisung nodded. “I don’t have a phone, but I can use the one at the restaurant.”

Minho tsked but scratched out his number on a scrap piece of paper and folded it into Jisung’s smaller hand.

“Be safe, Jisungie,” he said, a sudden, strange sense of worry rising in his chest as Jisung turned to look at him in the doorway.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” Jisung said cheekily. “I can take care of myself.”

Minho couldn’t help the fond smile that broke over his face, but he did manage to resist dragging Jisung back into the apartment to hug the smaller boy. Instead, he stood in his doorway and watched as Jisung walked away from the door.

A lone figure, making his way into the world.

Minho already ached to protect him, and he had only really met the boy that morning. To be fair—images played across his mind of the puppy playing with the cats, the puppy curled into Minho’s neck at night, the puppy eating with him at the table…

He had known Jisung for a lot longer than that, really. And even though his puppy might be gone forever, he knew he would be glad if that meant he could have human Jisung in his life.

For as long as he could.

 


	8. sense of home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the final chapter of this lil story is here!! I know technically this should be jisung’s pov if we’re going in order but I just felt like it needed to be in minho’s pov.  
> tbh this chapter was the most fluff I have ever written at one time and I was truly having an identity crisis while writing it but that’s ok! minsung being soft and sweet is what we all need! fuck your sad endings!

Neither of them knew quite how it happened—but from then on, tea became a daily shared ritual for Minho and Jisung.

Jisung started sleeping in what he now thought of as _their_ park every night, and Minho started taking all his morning walks there. Once he found Jisung on his chosen bench of the night, Minho would wake him up every morning with a gentle hand and a smile.

Jisung still woke up with a jolt when Minho did this, but now his eyes would shift from panic to relieved contentedness once he caught sight of Minho next to him. If the older boy was really lucky, he would get a sleep-soft smile from Jisung as the younger woke up.

Then they would set off together to Minho’s apartment, exchanging a few words every now and then, but mostly taking in the quiet morning as the city woke up around them. The cats always greeted Jisung happily, weaving around his legs and meowing so he would pay attention to them. Minho found it adorable…once he stopped sulking over his cats liking Jisung more than their own father.

Minho liked to surprise Jisung with new tea flavors, taking great pleasure in the way the younger’s eyes would light up with surprised delight. From there, they would dive into long-winded conversations that ranged from arguments over the likeliness of an alien invasion to discussions on the best hip-hop albums of the decade.

And then, in a particularly damning routine of domesticity, they would get ready for work together. Minho always forced to Jisung to shower at his apartment since he knew the younger hated not being able to, and they always ate a quick meal together before rushing off in separate directions.

But only after a parting hug, of course—one that never failed to produce a blush on both boy’s cheeks.

Minho didn’t know quite how a simple invitation for tea had led to all this, but it also seemed so…inevitable. Jisung just fit into his life like he had been there along—as naturally as the changing of the seasons.

For Jisung’s part, the younger boy had tried over and over to pay Minho back for their now-daily meetings, but the older boy refused to each time. If Jisung persisted, which he usually did, Minho would resort to claiming that Jisung’s presence alone was payment enough.

He phrased it as a joke, if only because it made Jisung giggle and blush each time…but for Minho, it was true.

He didn’t feel alone anymore. And that was enough.

 

The days collected like pearls on a string, memories and moments building on each other until Minho found himself here: watching from the couch as Jisung played with his cats on the floor—not sure how they’d gotten to this point but so, _so_ grateful that they had.

The morning sunlight pooled around them, illuminating Jisung’s caramel hair and washing his skin in gold as he laughed softly at the cats’ antics. Doongie had given up on any exertion long ago and was bathing herself calmly, but Soongie and Dori were still chasing the loose string Jisung pulled along for them.

Jisung smiled a lot more these days, the playful streak that Minho remembered from his puppy now showing itself in the boy. There were other things that were familiar, too: the thoughtfulness present in his dark eyes and the sometimes child-like excitement.

Minho felt a hopelessly tender smile break onto his lips as he watched.

The sounds of the city drifted in through the cracked window, and Minho let himself wonder how things would have been different if he hadn’t found Jisung on the bench that day. If he hadn’t invited Jisung back to his apartment for tea.

If he hadn’t believed Jisung.

It would’ve been so easy for him to brush off Jisung’s explanation and walk away, or even to report Jisung to the police for breaking and entering in his apartment.

But in this moment, watching Jisung laugh brightly as Dori smushed her paw against his face, Minho knew there was no way he could’ve done any of that. There was no way he couldn’t have let Jisung fall into his life from the moment their eyes met on that first night.

As if the two of them together, Minho and Jisung, were inevitable from the start.

And maybe that was naïve, maybe that was just Minho’s weak gay heart…but Jisung had a way of unlocking all the dusty, battered parts of Minho and letting the sunlight shine in.

Minho and Jisung, inevitable.

 

“He was your _dog_?”

Hyunjin’s outburst shattered the silence blanketing the room after Minho finished his explanation. All the boys’ eyes were locked on Jisung, who was desperately avoiding their gazes as he curled into Minho’s side.

Minho had invited all his friends over with the pretext of introducing them to his “new friend,” figuring they deserved to know the truth behind all that had happened. But as it always was with his friends, things weren’t going quite as he’d hoped …of course.

He sighed, snaking a hand around Jisung’s small waist and giving the younger a reassuring squeeze before answering.

“Yes, Hyunjin,” Minho said with a tinge of exasperation. “I just explained the whole thing to all of you.”

Hyunjin was now staring at Kkami in horror, as if his own dog might be secretly hiding magical abilities. The black and white puppy just panted at him happily from where he was sprawled on the floor.

“You know what? I kinda see it,” said Woojin, staring thoughtfully at Jisung.

“Seriously?” asked Seungmin.

“Yeah!” chimed in Felix. “Like, the puppy’s fur was the same color as his hair, and his eyes…and something about the roundness of his face?”

“Can you all stop talking about Jisung as if he isn’t here?” Minho said frustratedly.

There was a quiet chorus of apologies, before Jisung straightened slightly and waved them off with a tentative smile. “It’s alright, I know it’s…unexpected. It was for me as well.”

The other boys nodded, and there was a bit of awkward silence before Felix suddenly burst out: “Hey Jisung, what do dogs do all day when their owners aren’t home?”

That set all the younger boys into a fit of cackles, and Minho rolled his eyes. He knew this was a bad idea. Jisung was already hesitant around new people, and making fun of when he was a dog certainly wouldn’t help—

A soft chuckle sounded from beside him, and Minho looked down to catch an amused smile playing about Jisung’s lips.

“What makes you think I’ll tell you?” Jisung teased back.

Alright, so maybe Jisung was more of a little shit than Minho had thought.

The other boys seemed to relax more at Jisung’s playful response, and Felix laughed with a tinge of relief. “C’mon, I’ve always wondered!”

Jisung paused for dramatic effect. “Well…let’s see. Cashing out Minho’s credit cards, draining his good liquor, getting back massages from the cats—the usual.”

The other boys laughed, Hyunjin giggling especially loudly before freezing and staring at Kkami with renewed horror. Jisung seemed to relax a bit at their response, and shook his head after a moment with a smile.

“No, for real…not much. I played with the cats a lot, figured out how to work the TV with my nose, stole a couple cookies from the cabinet.” He peered up at Minho with a guilty smile, and the older boy gasped in pretended shock.

“Bad puppy,” Minho scolded him with a grin, and a dark blush rose on Jisung’s cheeks immediately. The younger boy looked away with an embarrassed giggle as the other boys jeered in the background.

“Aigoo, he’s almost as cute as when he was a puppy,” Woojin cooed from the corner, and Chan gasped in mock hurt as he turned next to him to give the eldest a betrayed look.

“Shut it, Channie—you know he’s adorable,” Woojin said exasperatedly, but pressed a consolation kiss to Chan’s temple anyways.

“He can’t be cuter than the maknae!” Hyunjin shouted, before diving into Jeongin’s seat and wrapping himself around the youngest boy.

Jeongin whined, trying and failing to push Hyunjin off of him as Seungmin facepalmed beside them.

“Hyung, quit teasing me,” Jeongin complained. “I’m an adult!”

“So! Cute!” Hyunjin screeched, clinging to Jeognin tightly.

“Why am I dating him again?” Seungmin asked Kkami, staring at the dog as if waiting for an answer. “Does he even love me?”

“Wait, Seungmin-ah!” Hyunjin giggled, kneeing Jeongin in the stomach and eliciting a pained wail as he clambered upwards to smack a wet kiss onto Seungmin’s cheek.

Seungmin groaned in disgust, but was quickly drowned out by Changbin shooting up and trying to look menacing as he growled, “Take that back! Felix is the cutest.”

Felix snorted, whacking Changbin on the arm. Quickly sensing impending chaos, Minho was about to yell at them all to act like normal human beings for once in their goddamn lives—when he felt Jisung lean into his side with a little laugh.

“I have to agree...Jeongin is the cutest,” Jisung chimed in, grinning at their antics.

This prompted Jeongin to make a particularly ugly face, which of course meant they all had to go tickle him, and…after that, the nine of them seemed to just click into place. Felix and Jisung immediately fell into rapid conversation, with Changbin soon joining in to tease both boys periodically.

Jeongin succumbed to the two-part cuddle machine that was Hyunjin and Seungmin, while Chan and Woojin roped Minho into conversation about some new music Chan had produced that he wanted Minho to dance to.

From then on, the conversation ebbed and flowed as if it had been the nine of them forever. Minho had planned on sticking to Jisung’s side just in case, but soon Hyunjin wanted Minho to teach him a new dance move, and then Felix decided to join them, after which Kkami tried to chase Doongie for the umpteenth time.

When Minho was finally able to check on Jisung, he found the younger boy already deep in conversation with Chan. The two witches were in their own little world, Minho only catching snatches of “favorite spell…” and “my parents…” and “…better, now.”

Minho found himself relaxing at the sight, knowing the sparkling happiness in Jisung’s eyes was genuine. The younger had needed this—needed someone who understood the part of him that held magic. Minho could never be that person for him, and that was okay.

The sun had long slipped below the horizon when the nine boys found themselves in one group once more, this time much less tense than before. Quiet conversation drifted around the room as Minho tucked Jisung into his side more comfortably, both of them finding their place next to each other on the couch.

Minho noticed that the smile hadn’t left Jisung’s lips the whole evening, present even now as the younger boy blinked sleepily and leaned against Minho. He let out a little yawn, and Minho held back a coo at the sight.

“Tired, Jisung-ah?” The nickname slipped past his lips before he could stop it, but Jisung only smiled sleepily and nodded in response. Minho shook his head fondly, before adjusting Jisung so the younger’s head was resting on his shoulder.

“Wow, literally nothing has changed,” smirked Changbin from his chair across the room.

“What nonsense are you spouting now, Binnie?” Minho asked after a moment, reluctant to disturb the peace.

“Oh nothing,” Changbin began with faux innocence. “Only that Jisung is just as clingy as when he was a puppy…and you, Minho-hyung, are still totally whipped for him.”

Minho leveled Changbin with his second-most intimidating glare, but the dark-haired boy only shrugged and smirked in response. Jisung shifted away from him, and Minho looked down to see the younger boy’s cheeks were burning crimson.

_Cute._

“Yah, says the man who ran six blocks to buy Felix shaved ice when his throat hurt,” Minho shot back triumphantly.

Changbin groaned, letting his face fall into his hands as the rest of the boys laughed. Felix blushed beside him, reaching over to smack the back of Changbin’s head as his boyfriend turned to gape at him in betrayal.

And chaos resumed once more.

 

It took Jeongin letting out a long yawn before the eldest boys were finally rounding everyone up to head out, tossing coats onto sprawling limbs and shoving hats over tired heads. Minho stepped back to watch everyone get ready to leave, a soft happiness spreading in his chest.

He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see Chan leveling him with…of course. The _Chan_ look.

Minho prepared himself for a lecture on his eating habits or how much he slept, but instead—

“I’m glad you’re happier now, Minho-ah,” Chan said, nodding at him. “And…I think we both know why.”

Minho’s breath caught, and he looked over at Jisung on instinct. The younger boy was currently being dragged into a tight hug with Felix, laughing as he complained about not being able to breathe. He looked _so_ different from the boy curled up on the park bench all those nights ago.

So much happier. They both were.

Minho looked back at Chan, a smile spreading over his lips. “Yeah, I am…I’m really happy. Thank you, Chan-hyung.”

Chan only smiled, reaching up to ruffle Minho’s hair before he and the rest of the boys were finally on their way out the door in a chorus of goodbyes. Minho caught Jisung’s arm and tugged the younger back before he could leave with the rest.

Jisung looked back at him in surprise, but let himself be held back. Minho stepped outside his door to face Jisung, both hands coming up to grasp Jisung’s arms. Something was rising within his chest, something terrifying but familiar at the same time.

Something that told Minho to keep this boy with him for as long as he could.

_I need you—_

“Jisungie.” The name left his lips on an exhale, and Minho couldn’t resist tugging Jisung the tiniest bit closer to him.

The younger boy tipped his head up to meet Minho’s gaze, still confused. Minho felt his breath hitch at the stars swimming in Jisung’s eyes, that same mesmerizing gold that Minho couldn’t get out of his head if he tried.

The dim light outside his apartment cast their faces in half-shadow, but Minho could still make out the slight bow in Jisung’s lips. He ached to know if they were as soft as they looked. He took another step towards Jisung, swallowing hard.

“Jisungie, can I…can I kiss you?” Minho whispered, heart racing in his chest.

Jisung’s lips parted in surprise, but he drew in a shaky breath and nodded the tiniest bit.

Feeling his heart slam against his ribcage, Minho bent to capture Jisung’s lips with his own. Jisung was still for a moment before he kissed Minho back tentatively, their lips sliding into a sweet harmony. Minho hummed at the honeyed taste of Jisung’s mouth, unable to resist deepening the kiss.

He felt Jisung’s trembling hands slide up his arms to rest at the nape of Minho’s neck, fingers curling into the closely cropped hair there. It sent a shiver down Minho’s spine, and he wound his own arms around Jisung’s waist to bring their bodies closer together.

Jisung tasted positively addicting, and Minho was barely able to tear himself away once they both ran out of air. Jisung let out a tiny whine at the loss of contact—and Minho melted immediately, cupping Jisung’s face with one hand and carding through his hair with the other.

It was in this moment, the two of them standing outside Minho’s apartment in the moonlight, that Minho found something that had been growing within him all along. He didn’t want to let go of Jisung—ever.

_I need you—_

_You deserve so much love—_

“God, Jisung,” he murmured, letting his thumb brush over Jisung’s cheekbone. “Please…stay.”

Jisung’s eyes were still closed in contentment, but they popped open at Minho’s request.

“Stay with me,” Minho repeated, locking Jisung’s gaze with his own.

“What?” Jisung breathed, eyes wide.

“Live with me.” The words fell from Minho’s lips without him even thinking about them, but they felt _so_ right. “I know this is fast, but…c’mon. We would be great together—you could pay off your shop, and you won’t have to sleep on the streets anymore.”

Jisung just stared at him in shocked silence, and Minho swallowed nervously. Was he asking too much? Were they moving too fast? Was Jisung freaked out?

“Do you really mean that?” Jisung asked in a tiny voice, closing his eyes briefly as if to steady himself. “Because, hyung…I couldn’t take it if you didn’t mean it. You…”

Here he cut himself off, just barely trembling as Minho made a sound of reassurance.

“You mean… _so much_ to me,” Jisung continued at last, gaze slipping downwards as if he was too afraid to see Minho’s face. “I don’t think you realize the half of it…I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you.”

Minho’s heart stopped.

Jisung looked back up at him, lips twisted in a sad smile. “I know that’s horrible and weird because I was your dog, but I just can’t…I can’t help loving you, hyung.”

Jisung’s eyes slipped close after he finished his confession, his whole frame trembling in Minho’s arms. Images of Jisung smiling sleepily at him from a park bench, Jisung laughing as Dori batted at his sweatshirt, and Jisung smiling at him over the rim of his teacup flitted through Minho’s mind.

_A soft happiness—_

“I can’t help loving you either,” Minho whispered.

Jisung gasped, his eyes flying open. “Hyung, what…?”

Minho smiled down at him, heart aching as he cupped Jisung’s face with careful hands. “From the moment I saw you under that car, something pulled me to you. And now that I’ve known you as _you,_ I couldn’t tear myself away…even if I wanted to.”

Jisung stared at him in utter shock, but Minho wasn’t done.

“I’m yours, Jisung-ah…for as long as you’ll have me,” he finished.

He watched as a smile slowly spread across Jisung’s mouth, until the younger boy was grinning so widely that Minho worried his lips would split.

“But…your apartment is so small,” Jisung protested at last, grinning too wide for it to come off as properly cheeky.

Minho gasped in mock outrage. “Yah, it’s not that small! It’s not like we haven’t lived together before.”

Jisung tipped his head back to laugh brightly, and Minho felt his chest burst open with happiness at the sound.

“But I was a dog then!” Jisung insisted. “I was tiny.”

Minho grinned down at him. “Oh, you still are.”

And with that, he grasped Jisung’s smaller frame and hauled him bodily over his shoulder. Jisung let out a surprised squeak, before laughing madly as he rained his fists down on Minho’s back in protest.

Ignoring the decidedly un-threatening death threats that Jisung was yelling at him, Minho marched into his apartment and promptly dropped Jisung onto the couch—careful to stop the smaller boy from accidentally bouncing off.

Jisung kept giggling, eyes screwed shut as he fought to catch his breath. Minho felt his own laughter bubble up, and he wasted in no time in crawling on top of Jisung. Their bodies slotted together in perfect harmony.

Jisung’s giggles died down as he stared up at Minho with a grin, their faces now so close together that their noses brushed. Minho knew his expression was embarrassingly fond, but he didn’t bother hiding it as he looked down at Jisung.

Unable to resist the achingly beautiful boy under him for a second longer, Minho dipped his head to brush their lips together. Honey spread across his lips once more, and Minho dove into the sweet taste of addiction.

Jisung pulled away after a moment, stars spinning in his eyes.

“ _Yes_ , yes, yes,” he whispered. “I’ll stay with you.”

Minho broke into a wide grin, peppering kisses across Jisung’s nose and cheekbones as the younger giggled. Pure happiness sung through his veins, and Minho felt he might burst from the light filling his chest.

It was all new, yet so familiar that Minho couldn’t help but think that he and Jisung were meant to find each other, somehow. In every universe and dimension, in every twilight dream, they would find each other. It was inevitable.

This was what home would always feel like: Minho and Jisung, inevitable.

 

_Stay with me?_

_I’ll stay with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *deep breath*  
> I FINALLY WROTE MY FIRST MINSUNG KISS! TAKE THAT BITCHES! 
> 
> ahem sorry, had to get that out. anyways, thank you all so so much for reading and supporting this story…I appreciate it more than you know. This was my first real attempt at writing fluff and I kinda failed at that, but honestly…I don’t regret a thing.  
> I really like to think of this story as a little world full of magic and sweet boys finding happiness in each other. And to me, creating that soft space that you can escape to is most important. I hope I created that space for each of you. 
> 
> Finally, here’s to my boys. In my own words: “writing is an act of deepest love.” And I write for you.


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